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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29888442">Royal Exemption Protocol for the Defence of Camelot</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverphoenixstar/pseuds/Silverphoenixstar'>Silverphoenixstar</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Merlin (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst with a Happy Ending, Arthur Finds Out About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Canon-Typical Violence, Child Death, Collars, Dubcon Kissing, Evil Morgana (Merlin), F/M, Gang Rape, Gen, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, M/M, Magic Revealed, Master/Slave, Mental Instability, Merlin's Magic Revealed (Merlin), Multi, Nudity, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Punishment, Rape/Non-con Elements, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Slavery, Suicide Attempt, Threesome - F/M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 17:03:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>38,850</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29888442</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverphoenixstar/pseuds/Silverphoenixstar</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Welcolme to my first ever fanfic!</p><p>After revealing his magic in dire circumstances. Arthur adopts a dramatic plan that nearly destroys everything. </p><p>Please read the tags and the notes at the start and end. Its going to have a lot of triggering content.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gwaine/Percival (Merlin), Gwen/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Gwen/Merlin (Merlin), Gwen/Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>75</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is the first fanfiction i have ever written. I have no beta, but hopefully there arent too many errors. I have read an unhealthy amount of fanfiction, so some ideas may be similar. However I feel its a unique piece. If there are big similarities i notice i'll reference as and when. I dont own Merlin, sadly. This fic contains<br/>Gang rape, slavery, d/s elements, polyamourous relationships, dubcon kissing, references to past child death, male/male relationships, violence, war, decreasing mental state, self harm, attempted suicide , self hate and an instance where a teenager sees an adult naked (but in a teen carer takes care of a parent kind of way). I'll do my best to sign post and hopefully you'll enjoy.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>At least it had been dramatic.</p>
<p>That was of some consolation. On second thoughts, no. Just no. It would have been better if it had been something simple. A parlour trick. Something damnable, but essentially harmless. Like being caught enchanting the bath tub to keep the water hot, for just a little bit too long. Not obvious, but enough to bring extra comfort on a cold winters night. Or perhaps being caught putting a spell on the King’s armour, so it is that much harder to scratch, or dent, or even get dirty (no one ever said he had to be selfless 100% of the time and getting dirt out of chain mail...well he has more pressing concerns on his time.) Maybe he should have been caught keeping the fruit cool to the touch, so it stays riper for longer, or fixing an injured sparrow’s broken wing, or growing flowers a touch out of season- so Gwen can have her favourites on display when she grows sad on the anniversary of her father’s death. All things he had done so numerously, he’d almost forgotten it was actually magic.</p>
<p>Instead it had been this.</p>
<p>King Lot had chosen his timing well. Camelot had only just ousted Morgana from the throne (again). Camelot’s reserves were low. Crops had been burned. Homes ransacked. The Knights not quite decimated; but substantially cut down. The people were listless from constant upheaval and uncertainty. They loved their King, assuredly, but oh to have some stability! What a dream that would be. The king was, once again, reacquainting himself with his own kingdom and, (not that anyone would know it), battling with his own self worth and nursing the never healed sting of an age old betrayal. It was a kingdom ripe for conquest.</p>
<p>So it came to this:</p>
<p>A too large army.</p>
<p>A well aimed arrow.</p>
<p>A piercing, desperate, inhumane, earth-shattering scream.</p>
<p>Two thousand soldiers crumpled to dust.</p>
<p>A warlock revealed.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 1 Emrys Emergent</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Dont you just love war?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When they had heard news of the army of Essetir crossing the border, the King and his Knights scrambled in readiness with a weary acceptance. It had not been entirely unexpected.</p>
<p>News had been seeping in for months from across the border. Lot had been growing desperate. The death of King Cenred and the total destruction of their entire army (excepting the reserves) had mired the land in chaos. With no clear heir it had been a blood bath. Many vied for power, were usurped and assassinated. By the time Lot had assumed power, and actually kept it, civil unrest had already rocked the land. Homes had been destroyed, families torn apart, their army was non existent and the royal coffers all but pillaged. He needed Camelot’s wealth, its farmland. He coveted its able bodied men. So he had thrown in everything he had. Conscripted any man of age, smelted anything made of metal to get weapons and used every last scrap of gold hiring mercenaries whom could actually fight. Then waited for this right window. Essetir would rise or fall in this battle for conquest. There was no other way.</p>
<p>Normally the Knights of Camelot would be confident that their success in such a campaign would be assured. They were the best army in all Albion after all. But the spirit amongst them was grim. They had had to many casualties recently. And though Lots army were undertrained they were vast and above all desperate. It was a tangible force in the air that left a copper taste in the mouth. These men would be fighting for not just for their lives, but for their wives and their children. Their families were choking to death in the quagmire of abject poverty and they would be vicious in their despair. No, victory would be hard won (if indeed they did win).</p>
<p>The Camelot army rode out to meet its aggressors on their own terms. Away from their people and assuring themselves the high ground. King Arthur was readying his army with the regal calm of a true sovereign. Confident enough to instil belief and a battle ready spirit, whilst being wary enough to drive away any lingering arrogance and project an aura of seriousness. Merlin looked on as Arthur walked around their base preparing his men. He was swathed in gleaming mail and a vibrant red cloak. As Arthur stood against a backdrop of the celestial glow of the rising son, Merlin couldn’t help feeling his heart soar. His King was glorious.</p>
<p>Arthur walked to the centre of no mans land with Merlin and a smattering of his inner circle. In his heart he knew nothing would be gained from meeting Lot to discuss the idea of peace, but he had to know he had tried. He knew his men would die for him. Unquestionably. But he owed them the knowledge that he cared for them enough to try.</p>
<p>Merlin felt a growing sense of unease. A coil of dread twisted in his stomach and he had to fight the urge to pull Arthur back . It was fine. Everything was fine. It was standard to have a cursory discussion with the opposition before battle. He had his best Knights. He had Merlin. Everything would be fine.</p>
<p>It was not fine.</p>
<p>The conversation was dry and pointless. Spoken in the clipped tone of a recital, to an audience that you know knows what you intend to say and has already discarded it as irrelevant. A monotone drone dictated to a stone wall. And yet Merlin’s unease had grown steadily stronger. Less uneasy nausea now; more barely concealed panic and rampant paranoia. He scanned the crowd. He looked ahead. He shored up his senses and his magical defences. He had to be ready. Something was going to happen, he knew it. Yet ,when an archer fired an arrow deftly through the gap in Lots entourage straight into Arthurs throat, he could only look on in frozen horror like everyone else. He locked eyes with his stunned King, felled, but somehow still conscious. Saw the blood bloom. Saw awareness slip away in a heartbeat.</p>
<p>Something broke.</p>
<p>With a guttural roar of pure torment, Merlin, <em>Emrys</em>, pulsed with the pure power of the Gods. Engulfed in a tidal wave of pure unmitigated rage, his magic tore itself free from years of quiet control. It was manifest. It was death.</p>
<p>It spread almost too easily. One scream of terrifying horrific anguish. And the opposing army was dust.</p>
<p>Golden tendrils of innate magic arced out of the tormented mage. Warmth. Love. Life. Shredded skin mended with an almost sickening grace. Arthur gasped awake and aware.</p>
<p>Stormy blue eyes met radiant gold. The world held its breath in frozen terror.</p>
<p>Everything was going to change.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 2 I killed them with magic</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“And what was that?”</p>
<p>A surprisingly soft voice spoke. Calm. Collected. Yet it roared like a dragon in the suffocating silence of the battlefield. No one could breathe. Merlin could feel his raging magic, so recently run wild, solidify and go cold. It contracted to a single point in the centre of his body and sank like a stone in his stomach. At the same time an impotent panic was rising throughout his core. A desperate, keening wail caught in his throat, unable to escape the cloying blanket of fear that was almost tangible in its attempt to smother him. </p>
<p>What had he done?</p>
<p>He had killed before. Oh had he killed. He’d killed through his failure to save. He’d killed through his ignorance of how to help. He had made fatally incorrect choices. He had cut down bandits with a flick of his wrist and conveniently placed tree branches. He’d dealt with assassins silently. Dispassionately. He was positively steeped in the blood of innocents and criminals alike. He was no novice in the art of death. </p>
<p>So why was this different?</p>
<p>Logically it wasn’t. He could see that. He had killed en masse before. He had commanded dragon-fire to slay an invading army. He had also killed in rage, when he bent the fabric of the world to his whim, to strike Nimueh down in a blaze of righteous fury. But she had struck first, drawn first blood. His true motivations may have been fuelled in anger, but it was also defence, a genuine threat had come first. And she had caused so much death, been given so many chances. It may have been the height of arrogance to believe so, but it had felt like a judgement. It had been a price. A <em>just</em> price. And when he had slain Helios’s forces, they had been party to a desperate attempt to flee, an active fight for their lives. It was blood loss tempered through the medium of the dragon. A small distinction. The deaths were still on him of course, but in the way a commander is responsible for his forces. He had <em>ordered</em> their deaths, but he hadn’t <em>personally delivered</em> their deaths. Of course this was war, a fight for their lives and the other side had struck first. So it was the same. </p>
<p>But while he had grieved the erosion of his innocence before, he had never felt the dazing swirl of inordinate horror quite so acutely before. He hadn’t even thought. He just was the death, the pain, the rage, the MAGIC. A split second of grief had torn through every carefully constructed boundary of control he had ever erected. He’d killed a whole army in less than a second. Because he was angry. Two thousand people had been turned to dust. On a split second whim; a barely registered feeling. </p>
<p>He was unequivocally the most dangerous person alive. In that moment it was clear that he was power incarnate, the fabric of the world would cede to his control. To rend or to mend. He was the ultimate authority. And he was a monster. In the truest sense of the word. If his actions had been ill advised, misguided, poorly thought out or dubious before, then this was the point of no return. The irremovable stain. Misery poured through him, knocking him to his knees, as self hatred ravaged through his trembling body.</p>
<p>A face crumpled. A soul shattered. A heart broke.</p>
<p>"I said. WHAT. Was.That.”</p>
<p>“I Killed them.” </p>
<p>It was a desperate plea. For mercy, understanding, love. Anything. A reverential offering spoken humbly. As though Arthur was the ultimate deity and Merlin the wayward follower confronted with the enormity of his own hideousness. An inhumane shriek pushed its way through the centre of his soul. Tears were pooling fresh and harsh on his face.</p>
<p>"I killed them with magic.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 3 The need to think</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You see its amusing, because that almost sounded like you said you killed them, with magic. And that’s funny because you don’t have magic. Because if you had magic I would know, wouldn’t I? Because you would never keep that from me, go behind my back, LIE TO MY FACE FOR EIGHT YEARS! Would you Merlin? So you’re going to look at me and explain that you were just being amusing aren’t you?”</p>
<p>Silence.</p>
<p>Fury boiled hot and violent in Arthurs gut. He strode purposefully across the small gap between him and the anguished warlock still kneeling in dirt where he had landed, when his knees had buckled under the stress. Arthur’s hand found a punishing grip on the younger man’s hair, as he yanked his head back to force eye contact. Leaning forward right into the other mans space, Arthur pinned him with a predatory glare, and practically growled. </p>
<p>"Tell me. You. Are. AMUSING!!”</p>
<p>"Art-”</p>
<p>“DON’T!”</p>
<p>Arthur bellowed, using the momentum of his withdrawing hand to send Merlin sprawling to the floor at his feet. </p>
<p>“Don’t call me that. You forfeited that right TRAITOR. Don’t presume I will allow you to continue mocking my rule with your insolence. You may have taken me for a fool before, laughing behind my back, but you will no longer. EVERYONE can see what you are now. The viper in our nest, the wolf in sheep’s clothing” Arthur took a deep breath, casting a disgusted look at the dust strewn battlefield, before his face twisted in hate. He spat out “You’re a monster.” as if to say so was purging himself of the vilest poison. </p>
<p>“Prin-”</p>
<p>A viscious glare, and suddenly the rogue knight was uncharacteristically quiet. </p>
<p>“Tie him up!”</p>
<p>Arthur strode with a steely determination towards his tent. He needed to get himself back under control. He was too emotionally volatile. And a king must be in control. He couldn’t feel utterly betrayed, torn open, or heaven forbid- vulnerable. He couldn’t be so incensed he wished to smash everything he owned. He couldn’t pummel his no good, lying, traitorous fr-servant into the ground and demand to know why.</p>
<p>
  <em>Why?</em>
</p>
<p>Was everyone he loved destined to betray him? Was he unworthy of trust? The trust he had freely given to Merlin. Merlin knew everything about him. Was trusted with every secret. Even his beloved Guinevere didn’t know him the same way, right to his marrow, the way Merlin had burrowed himself in. Even in his betrayed outrage  though, he still couldn’t see him as a true enemy. And oh, didn’t that just make it hurt all the more. The fact that his weak willed heart couldn’t fully condemn him. Merlin was a liar, a traitor, guilty of the highest of treasons. But even he was not blind to the fact that Merlin was his traitor. Even if that hardly made it better. </p>
<p>Merlin was a killer of men. Slaughtered in an instant, without mercy, consideration or a chance to withdraw. He had broken the highest law of the land under the ignorant eyes of the king. Effectively laughing contemptuously at him. And in front of witnesses. He had declared to the entire army that he had been taking them all for fools for almost a decade. He was a liar in the kings keep. He was dangerous. Unequivocally. </p>
<p>Arthur could not simply forget this, or turn a blind eye. To do so would be the height of weakness, everyone had seen after all. They were probably already doubting him, questioning him. How could they follow a king so abjectly blind? Especially as it was apparent his servant was no mere trickster. He was powerful and lacking in control, a treacherous combination, leaving the situation far more precarious than it might otherwise be. Not to mention this had been a war. Arthur was the commander. No self respecting leader allows their subordinates to attack without orders. Definitely not servants, who by the rule of law should show nothing but blind obedience to their sovereign. Servants were not supposed to fight. What kind of king allows their servant to publicly flout their authority and win the war on nothing more than their own whim, without an ounce of deference towards the proper order of things? Ok, so him being shot probably would have been the signal to start, if he was being honest. His men would have fought for him then, in the absence of him being able to verbally instruct. But would others really see it that way?</p>
<p>However, was that even the real point he needed to think on? They had won. What other campaign had been so successful? They had a complete victory over the enemy without a single man lost. Merlin had made that happen. And Arthur himself was only alive by Merlin’s grace. He had to remember that. He had single-handedly done more for the kingdom with one act of treason than his entire army combined. They were going home victors. Families would all be reunited. Camelot still had its king. All because of one stupid, infuriating, dissembling, incomprehensibly loyal and confusing young wizard.</p>
<p>Arthur needed to think.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin needed to think. That much was clear. The trouble was his mind had gone suspiciously blank. An almost comforting numbness had spread throughout his body, leaving his mind miraculously empty. As he was manhandled so that his hands were tied behind his back, more rope was looped round his ankles with enough slack for walking. A gag was placed. He saw them debate a blindfold, but before the Knights in question could decide the word came that they were moving out. He was pulled harshly to his feet. He was tethered to the back of the weapons cart under Leon’s watchful glower. </p>
<p>Merlin supposed he should have been doing something other than just walking. He should be thinking of a way to explain himself and his actions. Preparing a cohesive argument of why he should be spared. Getting ready to throw dignity out the window and beg for clemency. Instead he was people watching. </p>
<p>There wasn’t a single person pulling any kind of comforting expression. A lot of the knights looked angry and hateful. Not great, but he could deal with it. He wasn’t exactly feeling happy with himself at the moment. As a bastard peasant with an alarming propensity to mouth off, he was no stranger to disgusted glares. It wasn’t so bad. Worse was the fear. The hardened warriors who seemed to view him like he was a rabid beast. They were scuttling round the fringes wide eyed, gossiping like scandalised maids and tracking his every breath. But that was to be expected. He was a dangerous animal. How could ever blame anyone for fearing him again after what he’d done? </p>
<p>No, more upsetting, were the people who looked positively gleeful. His stomach roiled in displeasure when he spied the sheer joy on some peoples faces. They looked so amused, like he had been an annoying rodent that had finally been caught by the kitchen cat. They were (discreetly) chittering amongst themselves, relishing in the prospect in toying with him at some point. </p>
<p>But, by far, the most upsetting was the pity. Those knights now regarded him with an (almost) kind glare. Softly shaking their heads with resigned disdain. Like he was a deer with a bolt in its leg, shuffling, struggling fruitlessly to just LIVE, but deep down knowing the hunters would prevail. There was no hope in those eyes. </p>
<p>And what of his knights, his friends. He discreetly spied their faces and immediately wished he hadn’t. Leon was all cold fury. Enraged on behalf of the king he had pledged his soul to. Elyan looked truly disgusted; Percival even more so. Both had lost family to magic. The story of Elyan’s father was well known in Camelot. Percival had lost his whole family to a sorcerer in Cenred’s army, though he didn’t know the exact details. Gwaine just looked scared. Whether that was scared of him or for him, he couldn’t know. Frankly both options were heart-breaking. </p>
<p>Merlin had never been so grateful that he had no sight of Arthur.</p>
<p>The spires of Camelot came into view and both King and Warlock felt a terrible sense of foreboding, rather than a sense of home.</p>
<p>What was to become of them now? </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 4 The suggestion.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Ok so this chapter has a similar plot device to shackled by Obsessionist (which is amazing btw). Now i started writing this fic about 2 weeks before they published, so i didnt steal but they got there first. However i feel our fics are different in plot and tone even if the device in the chapter does seem very similar. Just putting it out there.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Arthur! You’re back! Is everything alright? What happened? Wha- Why is Merlin tied up? What’s going on?!”</p>
<p>Queen Guinevere was shocked to see her husband back so soon. They had expected the battle to last for much longer, with missives being sent relaying how the war was progressing. But Arthur was back already and unharmed. Had conflict been avoided? She had been elated. But confused. Why did everyone look so grim? She couldn’t see any significant casualties. And then she saw Merlin. Gagged and bound. </p>
<p>Arthur turned to the nearest set of guards, completely oblivious to her quandary. </p>
<p>“Take him to the dungeons, I want him in irons. Not here Guinevere. I need sleep and a bath.”</p>
<p>Guinevere looked around, desperately seeking an answer. Gwaine was ashen and looked on the brink of tears, so terribly lost without his usual swagger. He looked Like a man who’d lost his only friend. She turned to Gaius, expecting to find him equally confounded. Gaius hadn’t been part of the initial campaign, he was to serve in the axillary services. He was to go a day later when there would likely be the most casualties, to minimise the amount of time he’d spend out of the castle. He was getting too old spend so much time among the elements. Merlin was perfectly capable of providing initial triage, alongside three traveling herbalists whose services had been procured. </p>
<p>To her surprise Gaius didn’t look confused. He looked like someone who had had his worst dream confirmed as reality. This just made everything more perplexing. </p>
<p>“Will someone please explain to me what’s going on?”</p>
<p>“My Lady, I’m sure the King wishes to inform you himse-”</p>
<p>“No ENOUGH Leon, I’ve see my best friend arrested and my husband looks distraught. You’re all back from war in one piece, yet you look like the world is over. You can’t just leave me in the dark, these are people I care about. I’m the Que-”</p>
<p>“He’s a sorcerer Gwen.” </p>
<p>The Queen looked at her brother, bewildered. </p>
<p>“He used magic. He killed Lots army. Turned them to dust. He didn’t even speak. He just SLAUGHTERED THEM ALL WITH HIS MIND!”</p>
<p>“What? Why? I don’t. Just. Someone. Why? How?”</p>
<p>“He saved Arthurs life! He saved all our lives! He was just doing what he had to do-”</p>
<p>“He has MAGIC Gwaine! That’s the only thing that matters. People like him killed  my family. The only thing magic is good for is death. Look me in the eye and tell me he’s innocent. Tell me he’s not dangerous! Tell me he still has your full trust; that you don’t feel betrayed and violated. Tell me he DOESNT SCARE YOU!”</p>
<p>Percival was an intimidating man at the best of times, despite his gentle fun loving nature. No one could ever recall seeing the giant in such a furore. Gwaine lost his sense of ire immediately, but still choked out.</p>
<p>“He’s my friend.” He spoke as if that was enough. Or at least, as if he wished it was enough. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>After a (not hot enough) bath, a (not restful enough) power nap and a fraught conversation with his wife, Arthur was drained. He still had no clue what to do. Surprisingly Guinevere hadn’t said much in Merlin’s defence. Arthur was no fool, he knew his wife would seek to spare her friends life. She would never see him burn. But he had expected her to vehemently defend Merlin with every breath in her body. Instead she had been sad and solemn. Perhaps recognising the seriousness of the situation. She too had felt the sting of betrayal when it came to sorcery. Not just her father, but Morgana as well. They had been so close. Closer than sisters for many years, even sharing a brief flirtatious period in adolescence, in the way curious teens seek out new experiences on the cusp of adulthood. And now Morgana sought their death. Perhaps she too also felt the far reaching implications of such a situation. To have held someone so close, so publically and have them betray you so openly? It could undermine their authority. And whilst loved by her people, she was merely tolerated by the nobility. </p>
<p>And if there was a smattering of petty hurt at having not been trusted by her closet confidante, well she was only human. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The council meeting was going no where fast. The cacophony that broke during Leon’s report of events, was rapidly shredding its way through Arthurs nerves and becoming an almighty migraine. It was chaos, bordering on a lynch mob. Most had been horrified, teetering on murderous outrage. The clamouring for Merlin’s death was getting progressively more violent. Until, to Arthurs ears, it was nothing more than the frenzied beat of a drum. An execution drum. Still, to his surprise, it wasn’t a clean sweep. There were people in Merlin’s corner. And not just Gaius, whom had been effectively been silenced by pointed comments, hate filled glares and the knowledge that (as a biased party) nothing he would say could possibly make this better. But there were others. People who had been touched by the boys gentle nature, sunny grin and never ending well spring of understanding and forgiveness. They could also see that, for whatever law breaking had occurred, the intention had clearly been to keep their kingdom, their King, safe. That had to be taken into account. And no one could claim that Merlin’s actions hadn’t been in their best interests. Only the most zealous had claimed that Merlin had done so for selfish reasons. Even if everything else about him was false, most truly believed his soul baring devotion to his sovereign rang sincere. </p>
<p>“Sire, if I may make a suggestion?” </p>
<p>Arthur looked at Sir Geoffrey and waved his assent, vaguely intrigued that he had managed to get the audiences’ full attention. </p>
<p>“Well Sire, my suggestion may be unorthodox a-annd of course it is entirely up to you.. But.” He took a deep breath. “The way I see it there are several areas that need addressing. Punishment must be enacted. The cardinal rule of Camelot has been broken, if we wish to maintain control of the people, they must have faith that justice will be served, with no favouritism. There must be no room for them to undermine the crown’s authority with accusations of weakness or, heaven forbid, enchantment. But it must be justice, not vengeance. The crown is clear that those who serve them faithfully shall be rewarded and there can be no doubt that Merlin is the reason we still stand. He is the reason that we still have a King and that’s without taking in to account what else he may have done. There has been too much “luck” these past eight years. Un-killable monsters, unbreakable curses, untreatable wounds? No, there is no doubt. We are in his debt. And thus the justice must be tempered with mercy in acknowledgment of that debt. But that poses the problem of containment. He has shown capability of being extremely hazardous. Though he is loyal now, how can we justify to the people allowing someone capable of so much destruction to be spared? Based on nothing more than faith that his loyalties will always lie with ours? Well, I believe I have divined an, imperfect, but effective solution for these problems.”</p>
<p>“Well?”</p>
<p>“Sire. Although hardly common practice, I believe their are several protocols that exist that can help with this unusual conundrum. For example, there is the ability of the sovereign to downgrade a death sentence to life enslavement, if it is deemed prudent by the Sovereign in question. Although slavery is officially banned for profit making purposes, the precedents for punishment still stand. The second is the Royal Exemption Protocol for the Defence of Camelot. It allows the reigning monarch to use magical artefacts, as long as it is in the defence of Camelot. </p>
<p>My suggestion would be this. Commute his death sentence into life enslavement in your service. As such he is your magical property which you would be entitled to keep, as it is in Camelot’s defence. In light of what has happened in the war, no one would be able to say its not good for Camelot’s defences. This would answer the first two issues. Providing firm justice, but tempered with mercy that reflects his service to Camelot. </p>
<p>In a further suggestion, to address the remaining points, well that requires more artefacts. In the vault their is a device, well a pair of devices. They are called the Slave collar and the Master cuff. Well I can go into the details later if we decide this is viable. But it ensures the collar wearer’s obedience to the cuff wearer, including their magic. It is not restrained in the same way a purge collar restricts all flow, but it merely cannot be accessed without express consent of their master. This not only assuages any loyalty issue and puts peoples minds at rest with regards to any ahm-accidents, but shows there is no way you are under his thrall. It would guarantee to all that you have total control in the eyes of your people”</p>
<p>The silence was contemplative. </p>
<p>“Well the night is fast approaching, I suggest we adjourn for now and re-convene in the morning to discuss options”</p>
<p>Everyone filed out at once chattering speculatively amongst themselves. Leaving their King alone.</p>
<p>Arthur Pendragon had a lot to think about. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 5 Convenient Collar</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Merlin had been in the dungeon before. Multiple times. Probably more times than any other living person in Camelot. Yet he could never remember feeling so utterly bereft before. Of course he had never been shackled before. Somehow, he had always managed to avoid that- stocks aside. Now he was shackled to the wall. The cuffs were locked straight on to the walls, effectively placing one hand either side of his head, without slack. It was incredibly painful. But no shackles in the world could imprison him as well as his mind could. He was floating around in a haze of his own self loathing. </p>
<p>Growing up, he had always felt like a burden. He couldn’t help feeling like his existence must have been a terrible weight for his mother to bare. She was a poor woman, in a small minded town. His birth made her a fallen woman, ruining so many of the friendships he knew she had held before him. It was only her position as the towns only herbalist and midwife that made the town tolerate their presence. Then there was the fact that, even if he hadn’t been a bastard, simply raising a child alone, when one was so far below the poverty line, was a mammoth feat in itself. Up to seventy percent of children with two loving parents still die before they finish infancy in Ealdor. So Merlin could hardly fathom the sacrifices she MUST have made for him to still be here. And what did she gain from it? A clumsy buffoon with no talent for farming, a heart too kind for hunting and no defensive skills whatsoever. His total lack of co-ordination left him sub-par at even household chores, with cooking being his only decent skill. A skill rendered mostly useless by the sheer lack of food they often had.</p>
<p>And oh the magic! How terrible that had been. His control had been so poor, and it had made his mother so upset. He could never just get it right! He had wanted to be a good son, but far too often he would fall asleep to the sound of her quietly weeping, when she thought he couldn’t hear. It was always after one of his accidents. He’d lose control and she’d always be so scared. In light of all that had happened recently, it made his blood run cold. Think of the danger he had put her in! Not just the risk of discovery, but what if he had hurt her? For the first eight years of his life he had never gone outside during the day. In fact, he would only go out at all for a wash in the local stream. That was always tightly by his mothers side, under the cover of dusk; as though the art of washing was something inherently criminal. And later, when no one would be friends with the “Daemon child”, he couldn’t help feeling they had a point. </p>
<p>So whilst it hurt when she had sent him to Camelot, he had understood. For all her talk of keeping him safe and granting an opportunity for a great education, deep down he knew. She was relieving her burden. She had raised him to adulthood after all, whom in good conscience could ask her to do more for a creature like him. And, an even darker, part of him wondered if, perhaps, Camelot had been more about other peoples’ safety than his own. She knew Gaius would give him his best chance, but he wondered if she drew comfort in the fact that if he couldn’t be controlled, if he was too dangerous, there would be a whole kingdom ready to put him down like the rabid dog he is. She would be able to accept his death with the comfort of knowing that she had done her best, but it wasn’t meant to be. </p>
<p>But then the dragon had filled him with such hope. He wasn’t an aberration after all. He was a hero, a saviour! He was going to save everyone and bring peace to the world. His curse was a gift. It was going to do wonderful things. But over the years, it had become more and more about death. How many people had he saved? And did people like him even deserve saving? Had he even met a good sorcerer? They were vengeful, twisted, glory hunters weren’t they? They only cared for themselves. Even the Druids were a secret society, who knows what awfulness they get up to behind closed doors (or closed tent flaps at least)? Now, in the knowledge of his own betrayal, he had lost Arthur- his anchor. As such his mind had become unmoored, leaving him free to drown in his own misery.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Arthur had called Geoffrey to his chambers, to get all the available information before the afternoons council session. Guinevere had seemed angry and upset that he seemed to be thinking of accepting the scholar’s suggestion. They had had quite the argument about it. But when he had angrily demanded to know if she had any better ideas, she had grown quiet and resigned. He could tell she would argue again at some point in the future, but like him, she simply had no other option. Even in his anger the thought of killing Merlin was unfathomable. But he had to punish him. Both for the sake of justice and his own vengeance. If he couldn’t get rid of this crippling vexation, he would feel truly impotent. But he could not justify banishment or life imprisonment in light of how openly dangerous Merlin had proved to be. He just couldn’t. </p>
<p>No, however distasteful, this was by far the best option. It addressed all major concerns and put him in direct control of how harsh or light the punishment would be. After all, slavery was only as bad as the master and Arthur was not unnecessarily cruel was he? So he pushed aside a horrible sense of foreboding and prepared for the meeting. Guinevere was going to be listening in, even if she wouldn’t be partaking in the conversation. </p>
<p>“You spoke yesterday of a magical collar, but negated to mention the full details surrounding it. I should like to know exactly what it entails ahead of the next council session, so I can make an informed decision”</p>
<p>Sir Geoffrey launched into long winded explanation, that sounded as if it was taken verbatim from an instruction manual. But to Arthur, it was condensed into several key points. </p>
<p>. The cuff and collar worked as a pair. Both of them could only be taken off by the cuff wearer themselves and must be done willingly. Force, fear or coercion couldn’t take it off. In this way Arthur could be assured that Merlin’s power wouldn’t fall into another’s hands. </p>
<p>. Whilst the collar restrained magic all of the time, unless an explicit magical instruction was given, it wasn’t always an obedience collar. Straight obedience all of the time was actually very dangerous, a careless comment or sarcastic remark could be misconstrued with disastrous consequences. So whilst, of course, a slave was always expected to obey their masters word, it wasn’t always literally binding. To make an order binding however, one could always use the control gem. Both the cuff and the collar had three corresponding gems on it, each with its own purpose. The blue gem was the control gem. If an order was given by the master whilst pressing down on this gem, then the order was magically binding and MUST be obeyed. It was usually recommended that the first command be something along the lines of you must never try and kill me. Or words to that effect. </p>
<p>. The second (green) gem was the summoning gem. It compelled the collar wearer to go to the cuff wearers location immediately. Either by immediately walking there, or by teleportation, if the mage in question was powerful enough. Personally, (if he allowed himself to think in such light hearted terms), Arthur was looking forward to being able to summon Merlin immediately without having to worry about the boys frankly alarming propensity to disappear into thin air. Not that Arthur was demanding.. but still, knowing he could summon him whenever was comforting. </p>
<p>. The final (red) gem was the Discipline gem. It could cause pain. Pain that got more intense the longer it was pressed. And if he avoided Guinevere’s baleful glare it in no way meant he was a coward. And it certainly didn’t mean he was feeling markedly uncomfortable. </p>
<p>Sir Geoffrey rounded off the conversation with some discussion about the logistical differences between being a servant and being a slave. Propriety would have to be observed, titles must be used and would now be a bit different. The nobility would still be My Lord and My Lady and the Knights would be Sir. However freemen of Camelot would now also be called sir. The regular peasant class would now outrank him, with all non noble men and women being addressed as Mister and Ma’am. Arthur and Guinevere, as his owners, would now be Master and Mistress. </p>
<p><em>Master</em>. Arthur shuddered lightly, pretending it was from discomfort at the situation. It was definitely not the result of a warm feeling spreading in his groi- because NO, he had never harboured thoughts like that. Ever. It would be dishonourable. It wouldn’t do to linger on thoughts of Merlin’s mouth being put to better use, or various forms of discipline. No, he was a happily married man. A King. This was a matter of sovereign justice. Nothing more. </p>
<p>The final matter, was property. As Merlin was to become Arthur’s property he couldn’t own property any more. As such all his property would pass into Arthur’s possession. Including clothes. He also couldn’t own his own space either, which meant he couldn’t live with Gaius anymore, but would stay in Arthur’s room. Not the servants antechamber, as that was a space, but would have to sleep in front of the fire. He tried not to think of Gaius’s pale face at the last council meeting, eyes sparkling with unshed tears. This would be hard on him. It would be hard on many people who relied on the cheeky young lad. But it was how it had to be. And for this to be a painless as possible everyone would have to adhere strictly to the new rules and procedures. To allow for sentiment would just drag out the transition unnecessarily. </p>
<p>In his heart Arthur knew he was decided. He would take a few days to calm down and smooth things over with the council. Then they would begin a new phase in their lives.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 6 Yes Master</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>And its all kicking off now. Slavery started.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When, after 3 days in the dark, Merlin was unshackled from the wall, and re shackled in portable chains, he presumed he was headed to his execution. He was vaguely upset at the thought that he wouldn’t see his mother or Gaius again. But perhaps it was better this way. A clean break for all. So he was a trifle confused when he was pushed to his knees in the centre of the throne room. Was this his trial? Rather pointless given that the entire army and the King had borne witness to his treason. A formality maybe?</p>
<p>Suddenly Merlin’s focus crystalized on his King, but it didn’t make sense?! He wasn’t going to die? His head was swirling with thoughts of collars and cuffs, ownership and Masters. He didn’t know what to think. Should he feel elated, horrified, relieved? Didn’t he deserve death for the things he’d done? What would his mother say about him being a slave? He supposed he should feel indignant or humiliated? That would be natural. Even for a normal person this would be an indignity. And he was Emrys, the most powerful sorcerer in the world. Surely this should be beneath him. Instead he felt a sense of calm??? After years of worrying about every decision he ever had to make, now he didn’t have to. He never had to choose anything ever again. It was a heady feeling, that almost caused hope to bloom in his heart afresh. Perhaps he could still be worth something! All the pain in his life had been caused by him assuming he had an equal part to play in destiny. The arrogance! He should have known he was merely the tool for Arthurs greatness. Equals? He had been a fool. Arthur was the King. It should have always been obvious that Arthur should have been the one making the decisions. But now he had been given a fresh chance to make this right. And he wouldn’t waste it. He was going to be devoted, compliant, faithful. He was going to prove himself a worthy vessel for destiny. A serene smile settled on his lips and tried his best to focus on his Master. </p>
<p>“... so you are going to spend the next 3 days in the dungeon whilst everything is put in place. Then you will be collared and put to work. Is this understood?”</p>
<p>Arthur’s voice rang out above the stunned crowd. There had been a contained outrage among the people over the last few days, as word of both Merlin’s magic and the kings plan had leaked out. Magic haters felt the sentence was too light, whilst sympathizers had been appalled. And anyone who knew Merlin had just felt angry and sad. Overall, there was a general sense of disgusted acceptance of the situation. From both sides alike. Still, hearing it from the Kings mouth had caused a frigid chill in the air. A chill that froze in shock still further, when Merlin softly replied, without a hint of anger or sarcasm </p>
<p>“Yes Master.”</p>
<p>“Court is dismissed. Take him back in to custody.” He cast a cursory glance to Merlin’s wrists and (to hide his concern), he said in his most disdainful voice “No need for the shackles, he knows his place now.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Arthur would be lying if he said announcing the situation at court hadn’t left him somewhat disquieted. Merlin looked worse than he had expected. He was somewhat shrunken. Pale, dirty and quiet. He also seemed barely focused. But then his words could clearly be seen sinking in. Arthur couldn’t say why seeing Merlin so submissive left him unsettled. Its not as if he wanted Merlin to fight back, demand for his right to be heard, passionately plead his case, right? That he had accepted the situation so painlessly was a good thing for all concerned. He shouldn’t want to have to force him in to submission, bend him over an-. No. No. Everything was going perfectly. Just fine. </p>
<p>Hearing Merlin called him Master definitely did not send a pleasurable shiver up his spine. </p>
<p>He had been wanting to avoid talking to Gaius. But he knew it was inevitable. He couldn’t delay it, as he had done with Gwaine. Despite the man’s anger and pain, he had successfully sent him off on a six week scouting mission of the border towns, in the hope that things would be more settled when he got back. He couldn’t do that with Gaius. He needed to take ownership of Merlin’s possessions and make a few things clear. Still, he could hardly bare to look at Gaius’s face, as Gaius unloaded all of his wards possessions. He felt a painful clench of his heart when he saw how little in the way of worldly goods his former servant had. Yet they still seemed to be treasured all the same. </p>
<p>Merlin was presumably wearing one shirt, one set of breeches, one set of smalls, one neckerchief and a pair of shoes. So Gaius’s bundle contained two shirts, two smalls, one pair of breeches, three neckerchiefs, a threadbare brown jacket, one nightshirt and no shoes. These were wrapped up in a blanket Arthur wouldn’t give to his dogs. There was a satchel containing a rabbits foot, letters from Merlin’s mother and a dried pressed flower, (presumably from Guinevere). There was also a bracelet that had once belonged to Lancelot and an old ring of Gwaine’s. With a jolt, he also recognised a small scrap of bloodied fabric in the pile as the makeshift dressing he had given Merlin’s first “battle wound”. It had been ironed and folded neatly, despite still being frayed and stained. </p>
<p>Contraband items were: a magic book, (at this Gaius just looked defiant) and a magical staff. There was also a diary that no doubt detailed his many crimes, (Arthur vowed to read this one day, when his anger had effectively cooled)</p>
<p>Finally, wrapped in small cloth was the dragon the last dragon lord had whittled. And next it, most intriguingly, was a lock of black hair pressed into glass that was shaped like a heart. He looked at Gaius for explanation, but received nothing but a stony glare. His eyebrow wasn’t even raised, denoting how void of any amusement he found the situation. So Arthur piled the belongings into a chest and sought to dismiss the physician. </p>
<p>“Sire. If I may..”</p>
<p>“Gaius I’m afraid I cant let you go on. I know you want to defend him, but there’s nothing to be said that can change what he’s done. This is a punishment for high treason, you should count yourself grateful he’s not dead. And I know you want to talk to him, but its not in either of your interests. I don’t seek to be unnecessarily cruel, but this is his life now and false hope and empty words will just make it worse. You need a clean break to help accept that this is how it is. To be blunt he’s not your problem anymore, you’ll just have to deal with it.”</p>
<p>“And his mother...?”</p>
<p>“You can tell her of course.” He took a deep breath “but it’s in everyone’s best interest if she just stays away. He’s not her son anymore he’s my property.”</p>
<p>His voice nearly cracked, but he hardened his resolve. </p>
<p>“As you wish sire. By your leave?”</p>
<p>Arthur waved his hand and the physician bowed and left. Arthur exhaled shakily and briefly fought tears. Where was his strength? This man was a criminal and his responsibility. Arthur had a duty to keep him in line for the sake of his people. He locked Merlin’s belongings away and took the chest to his late father’s room and stored it safely under the bed. He had never lived in the room and merely used it as an office for excessive paperwork and ,occasionally, more intimate dinners with visiting nobility, as there was more room there. He used the room when he needed time to be alone. He had a feeling it would come in useful in the coming weeks. </p>
<p>He stopped by the seamstresses shop to purchase five lower quality red shirts, emblazoned with the Pendragon crest, five pairs of simple black breeches and five pairs of small clothes. He purchased a pair of simple sandals and one pair of walking boots, along with the cheapest cloak available that would still provide sufficient warmth in the winter. He didn’t bother with night clothes. The plain furs he had bought would provide enough heat and there was little point in worrying about modesty. </p>
<p>The clothes would be delivered in time and Arthur went back to his room and had an early night. For the first time since Merlin’s arrest Guinevere was sharing his bed and Arthur could only pray it was a sign things would work out in the end. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 7 The Rules</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Ok its getting hot. We have some violence and the last paragraph hints at future triggers</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>His stomach was wrapping it self in knots. He could do this. He just had to remember things were different now. He had to remember the rules and not fall into old habits. But he would get better. He had to. He couldn’t let Arthur down again. He would prove himself worthy. And hey he almost had it down pat. </p>
<p>It had been a two weeks since had been released from his cell. He had once again been thrown unceremoniously to the floor at Arthur’s feet. It hadn’t been a full audience, but enough people were milling about, looking for gossip fodder. But he wasn’t supposed to be thinking about that. That was one of the rules. </p>
<p>. Don’t think just obey. </p>
<p>The steward, a man who had always hated him an astonishing amount, had gone to great lengths with his instructions. In the 3 days after Arthurs public announcement and before the collaring ceremony, the steward had spent pretty much the whole time in the cells, yelling The Rules over and over; having him repeat them on a loop. He was kept awake the whole three days repeating and repeating till his voice cracked from lack of water, (he’d not been given any), and still kept going. The steward would hit him with a stick whenever his voice gave out or his eyelids drooped too heavily. It wasn’t so bad. He’d only been struck round the face with vicious intent once after all. In retrospect, it had been such a such a foolish thing to do. </p>
<p>He had asked the steward if he could have the list written down, so that he may better remember them. The steward had grown incensed and smashed his face so hard with the back of his hand that Merlin had staggered back and saw actual stars. The steward had then launched into a furious tirade. He had already broken the rules and he hadn’t even started yet! After all he was property now. </p>
<p>. Property doesn’t read. </p>
<p>You could talk to people if it was to further you’re task or to satisfy proprietary. “May I have the Kings breakfast please Ma’am?” “Yes Sir. Right away Sir” “I’m sorry Master, I’ll do better next time Master” But never under any circumstances were you to interrupt your betters. </p>
<p>. Never talk out of turn. </p>
<p>It is a slaves duty to serve those above them. That is their only purpose. How easy or light their burden is, is solely up to their Master’s discretion. They have no right to dictate their own work or indeed ask for anything that is solely for their benefit.  </p>
<p>. Never ask on your own behalf. </p>
<p>And, worse still, he had raised his face and made eye contact when he had said it. That one should have been obvious. </p>
<p>. Never look your betters in the eye. </p>
<p>So when, after three days of instruction, he had been tossed to the floor, instead of allowing his errant mind to wander, he took a deep breath, cleared his mind and assumed the proper submissive position. On his knees, resting on his heels, back straight, palms up, whilst resting on his thighs and his head bowed. He extended his neck on request, but was careful to keep his eyes respectfully lowered. As the collar snapped round his neck, he felt his magic surge under his skin in desperation to be free. It was staggering. He had felt the age old defiance burn through his throat, ready to thrash and growl. But he brutally stamped it down. The magic wasn’t his any more, nothing was. And he was content with that. If he could just get himself properly under control he could have a chance at true peace. No more life threatening decisions, no more lying. He had never truly appreciated how exhausted he had been. His whole life had been an artifice, and a burden to others. The constant pressure of being happy, having to anticipate every variable and work alone in the dark. Years of pretending to be an equal, the impossible goals that he could only ever fail. This was better, simple demands, nothing to hide. He just had to trust in Arthur. And that was never a hardship.</p>
<p> <br/>So he took a deep breath and entered the kitchen. After a two weeks of this he was getting used to the routine. He would wake at first light. Put his clothes on. Mend the fire. Throw any loose clothes in the laundry basket and take it to the laundry room for later. Then get breakfast sorted. It had been hard for the first few days, he had actually been late. He was so used to having Gaius wake him up. Even with that he used to spend most days stumbling through life habitually late, with a wayward smile and a mischievous twinkle in his eye. But this was not then. And Arthur had been so angry. Nausea twisted in his gut at the memory. He had already made such a bad impression, so early on. This was supposed be his second chance. As Arthur hurled scathing insults that insulted his very being, he had bowed his head in acceptance. Ice crept into his heart and self-hate burrowed its way through his skin. Arthur had contemplatively brushed his finger over the red gem, with a speculative expression on his face. Merlin had crumpled to the floor, with a howl of agony. Nothing, even the serket sting had been that bad. He never wanted that to happen again, though he was resigned to the fact that it probably would. Arthur had looked shocked and a little unnerved when he fell, skirting a guilty glance in Guinevere’s direction and meeting her stern glare with a half sheepish, half defiant expression. But despite Arthur’s presumed reticence, he knew this wouldn’t be the only time. After all this was for life. </p>
<p>So he had simply taken to not really sleeping. More flitting in and out of a semiconscious state, curled up like a dog in front of the fire in his Master’s bedroom. Eventually his body would be trained to wake appropriately. For now this was a safer bet. After all cutting back on sleep was nothing new. </p>
<p>If he was being selfish he wished Arthur would remember to feed him more. He was usually too sleepy at breakfast and too stressed at supper to remember to feed him. But he wouldn’t be selfish. And at lunch, Arthur would remember. After serving them their food he would kneel at Arthur’s feet and be hand fed bread, or some of the more gamey meet. He supposed it should make him feel embarrassed, but instead he just felt pleasantly warm. Like he was being cared for. And if sometimes it sparked a little too warm, too low down – like the time Arthur had forgotten himself and had started carding through Merlin’s hair (before hastily withdrawing), he didn’t want to think about it. </p>
<p>. Don’t think just obey.</p>
<p>So, as he ducked out of the kitchen, having successfully extracted his owners’ breakfasts without any problems, he felt cautiously optimistic.</p>
<p> "Oi slave get follow us this instance.”</p>
<p>He felt like he’d swallowed lead. He had been getting hassled. A lot. Not unexpected, but hardly helpful. But this, this was bad. If followed them he would be late- again. But if he didn’t he’d be directly defying orders. He bit his lip hard in panicked indecision, drawing blood, but ultimately followed them to Sir Brennis’s chambers. His feet were promptly knocked out from under him and he went sprawling to the floor, losing the food he was carrying. </p>
<p>He heard the door shut. </p>
<p>“So tell me..” Sir Brennis practically purred in his ear, while his entourage looked on hungrily. “Did his majesty ever teach you to walk on your knees?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Cliffhanger....</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 8 The Queen Questioning.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Guinevere was struggling with the situation. But that, she supposed was fair. So much had changed in such a short time. She was still reconciling herself to the fact that her closest friend was a sorcerer. It had hurt that he hadn’t told her. Logically she knew why. Under King Uther’s rule it would have been fool hardy to. Even if he could have worked up the courage to, (she’s not sure she would have in his place), she knew he would never have risked her being guilty by association. And when she became an item with Arthur, it would have been grossly unfair to her to ask her to keep such a secret in their relationship and later in their marriage bed. She understood. </p>
<p>It still hurt. </p>
<p>And now there was this <em>situation</em>. It was stirring so many unwanted feelings in her. To her horror and faint disgust, guilt wasn’t even the main emotion. To her shame, she kept thinking about how this was impacting her. And she was stymied on how to deal with it. </p>
<p>Merlin had been her first “love”. She had shared a short lived dalliance of little more than teenaged hormones and experimental groping with Morgana. But Merlin had been the first person she had fallen for. Of course, in retrospect, it had been little more than a combination of her burgeoning womanhood and the fact Merlin was the first man she had actually felt comfortable with. They could laugh together, bump shoulders and gossip like old maids. She had mistaken their friendly camaraderie with flirtation. She had learned better and moved on. And she loved Arthur, he was her soulmate. But deep down she knew that a piece of her heart would always remain with Merlin. With his gentle heart, surprising wisdom, quiet bravery and unshakeable loyalty. She could never truly say she felt for him only as a friend, or even only as a brother.</p>
<p>It had been shockingly easy to push those feelings down when they had simply been King, Queen and Servant. But now the roles were all different and it had thrown her heart in to chaos. If they had lived in each others pockets before, then now they were practically tethered to each other. It had derailed her perfectly constructed mental walls to realise just how right it felt to have Merlin as a true part in their lives. But she was humiliated to think that she could possibly feel better now that her best friend was a slave! </p>
<p>It had also exacerbated her an Arthur’s sexual problems. For all their love, their love <em>life</em> was just f r u s t r a t i ng. It was a constant battle for dominance that, frankly, left them both exhausted and wound up. They both wanted to be in control and couldn’t relax or get off properly if the other was in charge. Both of them wanted to receive oral sex but neither wanted to give it. I mean to put that in your mouth. The thought just turned her off, quicker than snuffing out a candle. She knew he had felt equally repulsed at the thought of his tongue being so close to her (the notion is ridiculous! How would I breathe??). They had never even tried to rehash the conversation involving putting her fingers- or him putting his- well there.</p>
<p>Guinevere blushed to remember. No their sex life had devolved to one activity, a constant argument over position and more often than not sabotaging each others pace. Meaning that they were often left breathless for all the wrong reasons. She knew why though. </p>
<p>Arthur could never yield. She believed he would probably feel happier if he did. Merlin had once muttered something about toxic masculinity, whilst chuckling fondly. But that was who he was. King Arthur. The man who had had control drilled into him from birth. He had spent his whole life training to be the best warrior he could be. He was the one they all looked to, the one they all depended on. He had to have all the strength. Whilst, unlike his father, he actually valued others council and would admit if he needed help, he could only <em>just</em> do it. The only reason he could do it at all, was because he knew that it was a sign of strength, not weakness. That doesn’t mean he Arthur could ever feel comfortable with being vulnerable. To lay himself bare in another’s hand, after having been betrayed so often, after having lost his kingdom three times, was one step Arthur just couldn’t take. It was not the man he was. </p>
<p>However Guinevere had a similar problem, albeit for opposite reasons. Her whole life she had been without power, subject to the whims of powerful men. Men who think being born rich means that they can take what they want. It was not encouraged in Camelot, but it happened. She had seen women bundled into alcoves and their master’s chambers, wearing defeated expressions. It might have even been her one day, if Arthur hadn’t made his preference known so soon after she became a woman. </p>
<p>She thought after she became Queen it would be easier. But for all the people that loved her, those same men still rankled her. With the thinly veiled comments about how she hadn’t been born for this kind of thing. Isn’t she so grateful Arthur had lowered himself for her? The politely mocking sneers whenever she involved herself in matters of state, as though she was merely a pet Arthur was indulging. Not to mention her duty to produce an heir. Now she knew they both wanted children, she knew that in reality the kingdom needed them to have children. That still didn’t stop anger lancing through her chest at the thought that the only way she was supposed to contribute was to roll over and be bred. </p>
<p>And now Merlin was here. So fragile, but eager to please, like a delightful puppy. It made her want to bundle him up in a blanket and pet his head. He was being so submissive and it was stirring things. The need to put his eagerness to better use. And she knew Arthur was having similar issues. </p>
<p>She had in the past, whilst buried in the deepest recesses of her darkest fantasies, wondered weather if it was Merlin that they were missing in their sex life. She would be lying if she said she had been unaware of the fact that her husband was attracted to Merlin. She was perhaps more aware of it than they were. Arthur could be very oblivious. So to her it had made sense on some (deeply hidden) level, the idea that he could be a third in there relationship. She had always had an inkling that he had a submissive side. She also knew that he felt for them both deeply. Whilst he had never been interested in pursuing an exclusive relationship with her, he had frequently stated that he loved her deeply as a friend, and she felt sure she had seen him become flustered whenever he saw her in her night gown. His eyes would go dark, his cheeks would flush and his eyes would linger of her breasts just a second too long. That suggested he found her attractive, on top of simply caring about her. His love for Arthur was beyond simple things like attraction. He practically worshiped him in a way that was quite unhealthy. His devotion for husband often left <em>her</em> feeling inadequate, such was the depth of it. </p>
<p>So it should have been easy to suggest that they share each others company on a more intimate level. But she had let fear stay her hand. The taint of adultery still gripped her heart and made her hate herself. If she was the only one who felt like this was a good idea, would she be taken for little more than a greedy whore? She knew no matter how much Arthur would want it on principle, even if he was aware of his desires, he would do nothing. He was too noble, too rigid in his desire to be faithful. Despite being a bit of a prat, and generally being quite unaware of how people really lived, Arthur wasn’t greedy. For a King he was really quite frugal. He didn’t line the walls with silk, or have a solid gold bathtub or commission endless portraits of himself. He didn’t just take things for himself, or feel entitled to the world. Their own relationship had been strained by class difference, not because he thought less of her, but because he had been desperate to prove to himself that his advances were truly welcomed. So he had obviously chosen to remain oblivious to his attraction to the young raven haired man </p>
<p>Now though he was becoming a lot more aware of himself. But with everything how it was, the power dynamic was more alluring, and thereby more wrong than ever. It was just making Arthur more angry and confused. And if Merlin had always been the outlet for Arthur’s frustrations before... </p>
<p>Queen Guinevere was very worried about what lay ahead. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>What you thought it was going to follow on? Please you can hang on that cliff a bit longer...</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 9 No longer under the kings protection.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>And we have the start of the non con stuff, though not as strong as its going to get. Also some violence yay!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Merlin tried to take stock of the situation, without looking up from his position on his knees. He thought he could count five sets of boots. A hand roughly grabbed his hair and yanked his head back hard enough for him hit his back with the base of his skull. His insides recoiled from the eye contact, but it was clear this was what Sir Brennis was after. </p>
<p>. Don’t think, just obey. </p>
<p>“Are you sure we should be doing this? If the King finds out about this..”</p>
<p>“This insect no longer has the Kings protection. Besides it’s not going to tell any one is it?”</p>
<p>A proprietary thumb dragged its way across Merlin’s dry lips. The Knight leered, snaking a hand round to hold Merlin’s neck in a punishing grip. </p>
<p>“Still, I doubt he’ll like us playing with his toy.” Sir Bedevere looked down at the broken crockery “Especially before breakfast.” </p>
<p>“That’s why we are only going to use his mouth. This time. So you guys better hurry the fuck up if you wanna get a piece of this pretty little dolly."</p>
<p>Sir Brennis winked and before Merlin could so much as flutter in panic he felt Brennis’s tongue swipe across his cheek and felt teeth biting down on his ear. As he let out an involuntary gasp, a massive hand grabbed his jaw to hold it open, with vicious strength. He endeavoured not to struggle and remain passive. But as something rock hard was forced to the back of his throat, forcefully enough to bruise, he tried in vain the escape the terrible invader. Brennis growled warningly and yanked his hair hard enough for his eyes to water. He willed himself to go lax and tried to breathe, despite the fact that his nose was pressed flush against Brennis’s crotch. For the first time he was grateful that he hadn’t been eating much, but he was still desperately scrambling not to gag. He wondered if he should be doing something with his tongue. People usually did didn’t they? And he needed this over with quickly. But there was nothing he could do. He could only kneel there and take it. </p>
<p>The face fucking was brutal. Sir Brennis was working himself in a frenzy, growling primally and keeping up a string of humiliating insults in between the rough pants of his breath. Tears started flowing harshly down Merlin’s cheeks. He was dizzy with breathlessness, feeling sick to his stomach and in pain with the pressure on his knees, jaw and hair. He was shaking with panic. </p>
<p>Let it end, please let it end. </p>
<p>Finally there was a savage roar, and the thrashing became erratic. Bitter warmth skated over the back of his tongue and poured itself down his throat. He was then tossed like the doll Brennis had claimed him to be and found himself in a sea of hands. He was being pressed in on all sides, making him feel hideously claustrophobic. Hands were pawing at his body with reckless abandon, as four greedy cocks desperately vied for the attention of his tortured throat. </p>
<p>It was then over, much quicker than he could have hoped. The men spent themselves in record time, as they had already fisted their turgid dicks during Brennis’s display of dominance. So that by the time they conquered the mouth of the helpless mage, they had already been diamond hard and weeping precum for a considerable time. </p>
<p>As they were tucking themselves back their breeches and filing out, Sir Brennis leaned in and licked a line along the edge of Merlin’s collar. He practically purred. </p>
<p>“See you later <em>daaaarling</em>. I do hope your Master doesn’t mind his breakfast being late.”</p>
<p>How Merlin stumbled his way back to the kitchen with the broken plates, he’ll never fully know. The stern head cook fixed him with a disdainful glare and indignantly asked him if he’d seriously dropped the tray. His throat closed up in panic and he couldn’t so much as squeak in response. After a few seconds of tense silence she waived a dismissive hand in front of his face and said in a disgusted voice.</p>
<p>“ Wait over there and don’t touch anything. Mary go wake the King and Queen and let them know their breakfast is going to be late because this clumsy oaf broke their plates the first time.” </p>
<p>As Mary ran out of the kitchen she squeezed his fingers lightly in a conciliatory gesture and that small act of human kindness nearly eroded his resolve. A feeble whimper broke free and he had to clamp down his mouth with his hand to stop a full scale panic attack. Pure unadulterated fear was pulsing in his veins, and he had to focus his entire being into breathing to keep from hyperventilating. </p>
<p>Oh Goddess what was he going to do?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Arthur was FURIOUS. He had been fair, reasonable, merciful for heavens sake. And now his whole day was behind schedule because that ungrateful treacherous little bastard couldn’t be bothered to even try and reign in his klutziness! Did he not think of how this would look? If he couldn’t keep control of neutered warlock half his weight, what kind of ammunition would that give his detractors? No! He would have to drive this message home now or risk everything falling apart. </p>
<p>So when Merlin burst in pale and shaky, rushing through the room in a hurricane of efficiency, it merely added fuel to his fury. And when, after plating up his breakfast, Merlin dropped the ground, prostrating himself at Arthurs feet, forehead flush against the stone, (in a move the steward had described as the Contrition Position), it hardened Arthur’s resolve. </p>
<p>Breakfast was a frigidly silent affair. It was punctuated only by the restrained gasps of air Merlin was sucking in, in a panic, despite his obvious attempts to muffle them. After they had eaten Arthur turned to his wife and said. </p>
<p>“Guinevere go ahead and meet with the council. Apologise for the delay and explain that I’ll be along momentarily, I have something important to address right now that simply cannot be delayed.”</p>
<p>Guinevere let out a resigned sigh and rose to her feet. She gave her husband a chaste kiss, cast a worried glance at the quivering wreck on the floor and left. </p>
<p>“Did you seriously think a simple apology would be enough to account for your abject disrespect?” He pressed hard against the red gem and as Merlin arched his back like a cat and balled deafeningly. Arthur screamed.</p>
<p>“ANSWER ME WRETCH!”</p>
<p>“No master. I I’mm ssorry Master. I’m. Soo. Sor—rry. Ple- sorry. Forgive. Mas-ter.”</p>
<p>Arthur watched dispassionately, as Merlin croaked out a desperate litany of apologies and pleas for forgiveness. He remained unmoved. He thumbed the red gem mercilessly and spat out venomously.</p>
<p>“Forgive you? Do you think you deserve forgiveness? Do you have the right to ask for forgiveness?”</p>
<p>Merlin keened brokenly as he realised his mistake. </p>
<p>. Never ask on your own behalf. </p>
<p>As the pain let up he was able to sob out a pathetic string of apologies and affirmations of his own unworthiness. Arthur cut him off with an firm,</p>
<p>“Stand up and take your shirt off.”</p>
<p>Merlin did as he was bid and Arthur grabbed him by his collar and tossed him against the table, hard enough to smash his kneecaps. Arthur pinned him to the desk. </p>
<p>“Hands above your head, keep them there and count. We’ll go to five this time.”</p>
<p>Before he could contemplate what was happening a riding crop was shredding its way into his shoulder, hard enough to wrench an agonising cry past his clenched  teeth. He cried out.</p>
<p>“One!”</p>
<p>It was agony, but it felt right. It was cathartic. With each lash it was like he was being purged of all his wretchedness. He selfishly arched up into Arthurs hand, when it was placed on the back of his head. He was desperate for his Master’s touch. Being stroked, inexplicably tenderly, he listened to Arthur shushing his shattered mewls. He felt a giddying sense of joy at being told that he had nothing more to worry about, if he would resolve to do better in future. It was almost forgiveness. He dropped to ground again and kissed Arthurs feet with obvious relief. He figured he might have even seen the most fleeting spark of affection, before it was locked behind a mask of cold indifference. Arthur explained that he planned to keep him close throughout the council meeting. He buckled a chain to his collar, saying in voice painfully reminiscent of their banter, (if not for the mean edge), there was no need walk upright. But Merlin still couldn’t find it in himself to feel anything but peace. As Arthur tugged his lead and he started following on his hands knees, Merlin felt an extremely faint smile grace his lips. </p>
<p>He could still make this right. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Poor merlin... Arthur is such a dick sometimes</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 10 A dulled blade has no point</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Merlin tried to remain still and blank throughout the council meeting. But as much as he tried to clear his mind, he couldn’t. It was like his head was full of bees all flittering and buzzing in different directions. </p>
<p>This was the first time he had sat in on a council meeting, and though he had already grown used to kneeling at Arthur’s feet during meal times, he was not used to an audience. He could feel the strength of their gazes, despite not being foolish enough to meet them. He was conscious about the fact they could all see his recent punishment. He was angled so that he was to the right side of Arthurs legs facing his feet. Whilst not as revealing as if he had been facing Arthurs crotch (no- don’t go there brain!), he knew an decent amount of the council could see his back. He had not been told to put his shirt on, so the angry lash marks were on display, for anyone who cared to look. As were his scars. He had seen Arthur’s (quickly shuttered) shocked expression when he had first seen the grisly collection and could only imagine the supply of fresh gossip he must currently churning. The serket sting alone would be enough to fund the rumour mill for a few weeks. When combined with Nimueh’s burn, arrow marks, mace wounds, sword cuts and, (perhaps most damningly of all), the collection of parallel lines along his arms from his teenage years, he was frankly astonished they could contain their curiosity. But then he was probably (arrogantly) over estimating his interestingness. </p>
<p>There were more important things after all. Little over a week ago they had received the first missive from the few remaining (aged) minor Lords of Essetir offering (practically begging) to cede all of Essetir over to Arthur’s control. This was the second time in less than five years that their army had been had been totally wiped out. Their kingdom had no money, no Essetirn nobility with a viable chance at consolidating power, and virtually no men any more. They risked descending into total chaos, with gang wars or even just starving to death- because their weren’t enough people to actually farm. Once again the council were arguing the merits of simply leaving them to fend for themselves, but Arthur wouldn’t hear of it. </p>
<p>Merlin felt himself practically rip apart with the overwhelming power of his own emotions. He was in awe of the righteous power Arthur resonated, as he refused to give up on the innocent people caught up in this bloody saga, insisting they had an imperial responsibility to do right by them. It made his heart soar to see his king so firmly in his element. But it soured his soul to know that this was his fault. The people of his home kingdom were suffering, because of his wickedness. Arthur was suffering in the fall out. Was this the only thing he was capable of- betrayal? Was their anyone he hadn’t betrayed? Self loathing positively swirled in his gut. He heard Lord Farnham try again with,</p>
<p>“But Sire, consolidating a whole kingdom would take so many resources and how innocent are the people really? Their tolerance of sorcery is well known, even if it was strictly regulated.” Lord Farnham’s nose wrinkled in disgust and he cast a positively spiteful glower in Merlin’s direction. Merlin endeavoured to lower his head more and anxiously worried his bottom lip. </p>
<p>“Do you propose that I am unable to handle sorcery?....No? Good. Then we will go ahead with the measures I have suggested. The council is dismissed for now, we will reconvene tomorrow and I want to hear solutions to our remaining concerns, not more talk of ignoring them.”</p>
<p>The council rose and started to file out and Arthur lent back in his chair fatigued. His head was pounding and all he could really think about was how he wanted a bath. He looked up and noticed Gaius had yet to leave the room. Great just what he needed. </p>
<p>“Gaius I have dismissed the council, please take your leave.” He felt the sorcerer at the end of the chain connecting to his cuff stiffen involuntarily before seeming to make a conscious effort to relax. The wizard in question seemed to almost be trying to fold himself down to nothing and had scooted almost imperceptivity closer to Arthur’s legs, as though seeking shelter. </p>
<p>“Sire, I have a woman outside who desperately seeks an audience with you and it involves a rather delicate matter.”</p>
<p>Arthur practically felt his comfortable evening evaporate in the horrible sense of foreboding that had been loaded into those words. Arthur quickly bit back an exasperated scowl, and smoothed his face into a more Kingly expression. </p>
<p>“Very well bring her in.”</p>
<p>The Guards opened the doors in acknowledgment of his statement. In walked a peasant woman practically in rags. Her face was both simultaneously broken and strong. She reminded Arthur of the battlements, the stone worn, weathered by countless sieges and storms, yet still holding firm. She bustled in with a bundle of nervous energy and bobbed a clumsy curtsey of hasty gratitude. </p>
<p>“Sire I come from the town just over, Glowerhapen, it were one o’ the worst ‘it in the last take over milord. They set fire to alota the town. Me family.” She took a halting breath “I ‘ad a ‘usband, Jon, two sons an a girl. Me boys were seven and five summers milord, me girl barely three.” She choked back tears “when the fire broke out there weren’t enough time. Jon ‘ad already been struck down by falling beam an I were running out of time. I could only grab me littlest, Jenna. The others.. Well Jenna, she aint really been well at all since then. So we come ‘ere to get some ‘elp. We dont ‘ave no fancy medicine in me town. I felt sure she’d be alright if I bought ‘er ‘ere. But ‘e says ‘er lungs are too bad.” She bit back a wail. “That there’s nope ‘ope for ‘er... ‘cept... Magic.”</p>
<p>He felt Merlin quiver and move to press his forehead to the ground. As though merely the word itself would be enough to bring Arthur’s ire down on the collared magician. It irritated him to no end and frankly did nothing for his headache. He harshly tugged the lead, pulling Merlin back up into the kneeling position. He recited in the his best Kingly voice. </p>
<p>“The use of sorcery is not permitted in Camelot.” As if she was actually unaware of that fact. The woman feel to her knees. </p>
<p>“I know Sire. But I beg of you! There were a rumour that you kept one.” She glanced fleetingly over Merlin. “I know I aint got nothin’ to offer. I know I aint important enough to ask. But please, if ‘e can ‘elp. I’ll do anything I’ll burn if I ‘ave to. Just save my babe.” </p>
<p>The woman dissolved into helpless tears. Arthur felt the veneer of his mask crack. Hadn’t he tried to use Magic to heal his father? It hadn’t worked, but he had at least been allowed to try. </p>
<p>“I have every sympathy for you situation. As King I have made a vow to do my best for the sake of my people. However I can’t countenance the use of sorcery for situations that aren’t of extreme seriousness.” The woman’s eyes dimmed. “that being said... it would not do to have him be too out of practice from lack of use. There is no advantage in a dulled blade. And if this training can be used to actually help my people, so much better, I make no guarantees as to his effectiveness, but if you are still resolved to try, you have my permission.”</p>
<p>He almost didn’t hear her jubilant gratitude over Merlin’s gasp of horror. He turned to find the boy was shaking his head frantically, scuttling away like a cockroach exposed to the light. There was a faint “no no no” steadily rising in volume. The pain in his head crested and his temper promptly snapped. </p>
<p>“Grow up! Stop cowering like a worm on the floor. What use are you if can’t do anything to actually HELP!”</p>
<p>Merlin’s head snapped up and for a brief second their eyes met. Of course they were hastily lowered, in what Arthur assumed was a fit of self castigation. But those precious few seconds were enough to cool his temper. Merlin was pettrifed, of himself. Genuinely terrified of his own capability. Arthur softened his tone and reached out to pet the shivering warlock’s head. </p>
<p>“You only have to try. Nothing will happen without my consent.” He tapped the base of Merlin’s collar. “You need only do as I say, you have nothing else to worry about.”</p>
<p>Merlin steeled a shuddering breath and nodded almost imperceptibly. Arthur turned to Gaius.</p>
<p>“Lead the way.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 11 The magical art of healing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Arthur and Merlin were following Gaius to a local inn where the woman had been staying. Guinevere had taken her leave, not wanting to overcrowd the situation anymore than necessary. It was already going to be surreal enough for the King, a peasant, the Court physician and the Kings ex manservant come sorcerous slave to be traipsing through the lower town to the poorest inn, without the Queen joining them. But she had given Arthur an approving look when he made his decision, so Arthur was relieved. </p>
<p>Arthur was used to people moving aside wherever he walked. He had grown up a Prince after all. He was the King. It was natural. But, as he looked out at the people bowing and curtseying out of his way, he realised this was nothing close to normal. The people way practically craning to get a good look at the half naked slave still tethered to his arm. Why hadn’t he thought to pick up a shirt now that Merlin’s back was no longer bleeding? He didn’t want people to get the wrong idea. Or was it himself he didn’t want getting the wrong idea? The faces in the crowd looked mostly giddy with morbid curiosity. He couldn’t blame them, the situation was unprecedented. After all, to have an enslaved sorcerer in a kingdom that banned magic and the slave trade hardly seemed like common practice. For it to happen so soon after retaking the throne and having, (frankly too big), of a success in the most recent war, he couldn’t blame their energized skittishness. He could only imagine how charged the situation would become once plans to amalgamate Essetir into Camelot’s territory became common knowledge. </p>
<p>The crowd mainly consisted of three distinct groups. Those who looked at Merlin with an expression of terror on their faces. The people whose lips curled in disgust, with their eyes sparkling with malice. And the people who looked on in reverential awe. Arthur didn’t really know what to make of it. He supposed he should just be grateful they hadn’t descended into open anarchy. Especially since Merlin had already been such a polarizing figure. For every person who despised his lack of proprietary, there was a person who doted on his high cheekbones and frustratingly loveable ears. For every man who thought him a fool, another thought him gentle and kind. For every person who presumed him to be a just a base peasant, another would call him loyal and brave. And for everyone who thought him worthless, their had been a person willing to die for him. Of course his magical revelation had radically shifted a lot of peoples views, but Arthur could still tell that, for good or for ill, his new slave was a person on who opinions ran passionate. </p>
<p>They scrambled their way into the (cupboard? Seriously this was a room?) that the woman had sold her wedding ring to be able to afford for a few days, whilst she sought treatment for her daughter.  They had stoically ignored the inn keeper’s blind panic when they arrived and were continuing to ignore his ridiculously over zealous attempts to ingratiate himself into the kings favour. </p>
<p>Arthur took stock of the situation. The girl truly looked at deaths door. He could see she was pale as chalk, apart from the livid burns that marred her skin and still looked painfully fresh. He could see Gaius’s burn salve slathered all over her skin. She had a poultice on her head and Arthur could see evidence of recently administered tinctures around her lips. Still, her chest barely moved and her breath crackled and wheezed with the effort, hitching at intervals- as though it were about to cease. </p>
<p>Gaius was gathering a bundle of herbs and preparing some incense, whilst discussing spells with Merlin, who looked like he was about to faint. He patted Merlin’s shoulder (who winced) and said calmly,</p>
<p>“It’s time."</p>
<p>Merlin sucked in a calming breathe, extended the hand carrying the herb bundle and muttered.</p>
<p>“Ic þe þurhhæle þin licsare.” </p>
<p>Nothing happened. </p>
<p>“Ic þe þurhhæle þin licsare.”</p>
<p>Merlin’s voice shook and he spoke a bit louder. </p>
<p>“Ic þe þurhhæle þin licsare. Ic þe þurhhæle þin licsare. Ic þe þurhhæle þin licsare!"</p>
<p>Merlin’s voice was growing hysterical but still nothing was happening. The mother looked on the brink of tears and Gaius was growing more and more concerned. Arthur could feel feral magic swirling in the air crackling and spitting harshly, raising the hairs on the back of his neck.  It was powerful, desperate, dangerous.</p>
<p>Unthinkingly, Arthur practically leapt across the room and grabbed Merlin’s face, forcing eye contact. He stared into the fathomless depths of Merlin’s eyes, observing the raging torrent of pain and fear. He nearly felt himself drowning in the tumultuous sea of Merlin’s self loathing and despair, but he anchored himself in the now. He spoke in calm authoritarian voice, that he hoped was also reassuring. </p>
<p>“Listen to me. Breathe. You. Are. Going. To. Heal. Jenna. You are going to do it, because I am telling you to do it. Now let go.”</p>
<p>Merlin’s eyes surged a molten gold so bright, he felt like his crown was surely made of brass. A dome of breath-taking light enveloped the room and Arthur felt like he was being wrapped up in a warm blanket. He saw Jenna’s skin knitting itself back together. The burns were unravelling themselves, shrinking inwards and disappearing without so much as a scar left behind. Her breathing evened and a healthy blush blossomed on her cheeks chasing away the deathly pale. Finally, as the light vanished and tiny eye lids fluttered open, a fully lucid and healthy voice rang out</p>
<p>“Mama!</p>
<p>Her mother let out joyous wail and bundled her up in her arms. She held Jenna close, almost as if she was trying drink in her little girls wellness. She curtseyed low, babbling a veritable stream of inexorable gratitude that was rapidly growing more exuberant. She also thanked Merlin sincerely, who simply cocked his head, looking politely puzzled. It was as if he genuinely couldn’t understand why she would be thanking him. Almost as if he truly believed he hadn’t done anything of note, or perhaps didn’t really think of himself as the responsible party for this miracle. Arthur didn’t really want to analyse the motivations of why that may be. Apart from that though, Merlin himself looked healthier than before, almost as if he was still glowing, though Arthur knew he was not. Arthur concluded Merlin simply looked more alive than- well ever. </p>
<p>They traipsed back to the castle, where he unbuckled Merlin’s leash and sent him off to fetch lunch. He found Guinevere in his chambers and tried not to sound like an excited child as he relayed what had happened in the inn. </p>
<p>By the time Merlin had bought their lunch, they had fully exhausted the topic of Merlin’s healing magic and had moved on to re-hashing his plans for Essetir. He had planned a major recruitment drive on the knighthoods. Whilst the first code of Camelot had long since been repealed, very few commoners had applied. Arthur knew it couldn’t be due to a lack of skill, despite what the lords would like to believe. After all there were enough Mercenaries, bandits and smugglers out there. He believed it was because they weren’t sure they would be welcomed. This had to end. He would throw open the gates and welcome any man with talent. Even if they had come from neighbouring kingdoms; he suspected many would take the opportunity. He was even toying with allowing women to join. This decision would be unpopular and ,regardless of the councils views, he had no intention of advertising for women. But if a talented woman or two arrived wanting to test their mettle, he wouldn’t turn them away on the matter of principal alone. He would give women determined to try a chance. </p>
<p>He also was planning to dip quite heavily into their gold reserves, to make it all happen. The council thought he was mad, but honestly they had been building up their reserves of gold and treasure for generations. If they could integrate Essetir successfully they would be stronger than ever. He already had plans to give out sections of land to the commoner knights that had long since proven themselves worthy and some to his minor nobles whose loyalty exceeded the norm, like Leon’s family. Any remaining Lords of Essetir would have the opportunity to swear fealty and keep their estates, but they would have to pull their weight. </p>
<p>“... But what about the sorcery situation. I mean, we all know both Cenred and Lot kept them on a pretty tight leash through forcibly conscripting magic users into their army, but there’s bound to still be some out there, as well as sympathizers. What will you do?”</p>
<p>“ I’m not going to waste time knocking on doors and hunting people down. I’ll simply make it clear that magic is outlawed and give them a two week grace period to either leave or resolve to give magic up for good. Then if people are caught after that’s ended they’ll face the consequences. I’m not interested in what they’ve done in the past. If they have been sorcerers, harboured sorcerers or raised sorcerers I don’t care, they just cant do it any more.”</p>
<p>Arthur felt a relieved sigh puff against his leg. He knew the mage was thinking about his mother. Arthur lightly petted his head and carried on hand feeding young man sequestered at his feet. He addressed Merlin directly. </p>
<p>“Now about today...” Merlin gulped nervously “Don’t think I’ve forgotten the fact that broke several rules during that audience with Jenna’s mother Agatha. But I’m not monster, I know you’ve had a very stressful day, and you did an excellent job with that girl. So if you can prove to me you know what you did wrong, apologise and resolve to do better we’ll leave it there.” Nodding feverishly, Merlin said. </p>
<p>“Yes Master. I spoke out of turn, when said you’d help Mrs Agatha Master. I said No repeatedly, which wasn’t just me interrupting my betters, but attempting to not comply with a direct order Master. Finally I made direct eye contact with you when I hadn’t been instructed to Master. I’m so very sorry Master. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness after failing you so egregiously. But I swear I will work hard to be better Master.”</p>
<p>Arthur could tell he was speaking from the heart. He brushed his fingers down Merlin’s cheek, (in a move even he didn’t understand) and softly said</p>
<p>“It’s forgiven.”</p>
<p>He carried on feeding Merlin his lunch and Merlin’s blinding smile caused his stomach to flip. The rest of the day was non eventful. Near the end of the day they all had supper, (yes Arthur had finally remembered Merlin needs more than one meal a day, well Guinevere may have pointed it out). After that, they bedded down for an early night and Arthur tried not to let his gaze linger on the pale figure curled up by the fire. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The next few days returned to their normal rhythm. Merlin hadn’t made any more mistakes, received any more punishments and he was generally feeling more calm than before. Arthur had asked him to go tend to the pregnant hunting bitches, check on their health and that they had everything they needed. It wasn’t often he had to do this, as the King did employ a kennel master. However they became a bit temperamental during pregnancy and Merlin was notoriously good with animals. But the kennel master was annoyed because he had supplies that he need to pick up and didn’t wish to leave a “filthy sorcerer” alone with his prize bitches. This of course was completely irrespective of the numerous times over the years when he had done just that and the fact that the collar rendered him less of a threat than ever. He was still trying to think of a way to resolve this issue when, suddenly, his innards turned to ice.</p>
<p>“I couldn’t help overhearing, but if you need someone to watch him my friends and I aren’t doing anything for the next few hours. We can keep him in check.”</p>
<p>The kennel master made a grateful exit. Before Merlin could truly contemplate what was happening he heard the door slamming shut.</p>
<p>“So Doll... Tell me, have you been a good pet?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>You do like very obvious cliffhangers right?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 12 To be the doll</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Ok some very serious non con. And that's the entirity of this chapter, so if you dont want to get into it just skip this chapter and remember two word: gang rape.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Oh wow look at him shake!” Sir Kay practically crowed. “Not so powerful now are you?” Sir Kay made to grab Merlin and drag him close, but Sir Brennis tutted chidingly and batted Sir Kay’s hand away. </p>
<p>“Now now Kay, we have hours yet. No need to rush. Half the fun is in the build up.” Sir Brennis was eyeing Merlin like he was the yule feast, licking his lips lasciviously.  </p>
<p>“Easy enough for you to say, but there’s seven of us now and I fully intended on getting a piece of that fine arse.” Sir Daniel smirked skimming his hand teasingly over Merlin’s behind, and tauntingly he dipped finger below Merlin’s belt line.</p>
<p>“And you will. We all will. But we don’t know when we’ll be able to get a look in for such a good length of time again, so personally I want to make the most of our <em>plaaayytimme</em>.” Sir Brennis cooed and brushed his hand across Merlin’s left cheek. It was a mocking caress of gentleness, made complete with a dangerous leer. He pressed his face against Merlin’s ear, close enough for him to feel the Knight’s putrid breath, and whispered in a tone that brokered no arguments. “Strip!”</p>
<p>Merlin’s hands shook as he pinched the hem of his shirt. He tried harder than even to empty his mind and just do as he was told. To survive he knew he should just become the doll. He knew that. Yet he still couldn’t stop his cowardly heart from beating fit to burst. Adrenaline was pouring through his veins, beating like a drum in his head. It seemed to scream at him. </p>
<p>Fight. Fight! FIGHT!</p>
<p>It seemed almost surreal to him to think that, less than a month ago, he would have done just that. The idea of capitulating wouldn’t have even been a consideration. Was it all the magic? Did it really change him so much? A month ago he could have crushed these men, like scuffing a petal beneath his boots. Now he couldn’t. He had always thought of himself as brave. A person who would never bow, even in the face of overwhelming odds. But had there even been “overwhelming odds” before? Deep down, he had known. Nothing could touch him unless he allowed it. Now anything could touch him. He was truly helpless. </p>
<p>But, most importantly, Merlin remembered why he was doing this. Though this had never entered his mind, he knew it was but a sacrifice he had to make. Both for his own happiness and everyone’s safety. Defiance had brought him pain. Fighting made him a monster. Thinking hurt others. No. He had never been brave in his life, but it was never too late to start. </p>
<p>He stripped himself bare. </p>
<p>“You’d never think such a pretty face would have such an ugly body. Those scars... Honestly its like you were trying to scare people away! And you’re so bony, didn’t your mother ever feed you? You’d hardly be worth the effort. But oh your mouth. Its so deliciously fuckable. It’s so adorably plush. Like a girl. If it wasn’t for this,” he stroked a delicate line down Merlin’s wilted cock. “I’d be sure you were a girl in hiding. Still having a cock doesn’t make you a man. Because you’ll never be a man. We are a men. We are strong and powerful. We can take what we want and no one can stop us. You’re just a pathetic weakling, too useless to even try and fight back. Or maybe you don’t want to? After all your arse looks primed for taking. Its probably the only way a sissy slut like you can even get off. I bet you can’t even get it up unless you’re being bred the like the worthless bitch you are. I swear the King is too noble to treat you like you deserve. If he would just wise up he’d keep you naked, chain you to the throne on your knees and fuck your throat during the petitions. He should lock your mouth open, so you cant speak and he could take you whenever, whilst you drool like a desperate animal. He should lock you naked in the stocks, and let people stuff you so full that you’ll never feel right when you’re empty. He should plug you up and keep you so full with his seed you grow fat on it. He should bind you to the round table and fuck you so hard that your tiny arsehole breaks, to show everyone that equality isn’t for disgusting creatures like you.”</p>
<p>To Merlin’s consummate shame, his cock had started to twitch in interest, despite himself. His eyes sparkled with tears and he desperately wanted curl up in a heap and sob. To his detriment, the knights had noticed his situation. They positively howled with mirth. </p>
<p>“Oh Christ you really are his bitch! Tell me, does he do you on your back, or does push your face down in the dirt where it belongs.” He searched Merlin’s face “No its even worse than that isn’t it. You want him too, but he’s not interested. He must really hate you to not take you when he already owns you and you’re practically gagging for it.”</p>
<p>Tears were pouring unwillingly down Merlin’s cheeks. He was so desperate not to feel, but the words were eviscerating his attempt at armour and mangling his soul. Try as he may he couldn’t un-hear those words and he couldn’t not care. He was pulled harshly from his reverie by a bone dry finger savagely breaching his most secret place. It wrenched a tortured cry from his throat, before he could even think of stopping it.</p>
<p>“Fuck you’re tight! Anyone would think you’re fucking virgin. Wait.. oh shit your serious! No fucking way no-one’s tapped this shit before. Christ! Oh this is gonna be so good.”</p>
<p>The knights looked like it had just been declared happy hour. Most were already fumbling open their tented breeches. Sir Brennis once again took the lead. </p>
<p>“Looks like its up to me to teach you how to be a good little slut then. Get on your knees and crawl over here and open my breeches with your teeth.”</p>
<p>Merlin started to crawl and the crowd roared, jeered and leered in sync, as though they were one many headed animal. Merlin tried desperately to rein in his panic, as he struggled wildly to undo the knot. Finally he managed it. His face was level with the concrete hard prick, that was straining against Sir Brennis’s small clothes.</p>
<p>“Good boy. Now get in close and lap it up with your tongue.” Merlin felt his arm twist sharply, as it was harshly grabbed “I didn’t fucking tell you to get it out! Suckle the fabric. Yeah that’s it, like a babe on its mothers tit. You’re desperate for my milk aren’t you baby? Now pull back. Good. Now beg me to fuck you. After all, a slut like you needs it; I’ll be doing you a favour. So. Beg. Me.</p>
<p>“Please fuck me sir.”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry what did you say?”</p>
<p>“Please fuck me sir.”</p>
<p>“I cant quite hear you, say it louder.”</p>
<p>“Please fuck me sir!”</p>
<p>“Fucking sell it to me bastard.”</p>
<p>“PLEASE FUCK ME SIR!”</p>
<p>Sir Brennis twisted his hand spitefully in Merlin’s hair and practically spat. </p>
<p>“Listen to me you worthless cunt, you are going to convince me that you’re fucking desperate for my cock, or so help me I’ll force myself into you right this second dry as dust you useless insect!”</p>
<p>Merlin’s mind scrambled in panic. Out burst a practically incoherent litany of pleas that he prayed sounded faintly lustful or at the very least made sense.</p>
<p>“Oh p-please fuck m-m-me sir! Im s-so des-p-perate! I need it so badly. Gods please just fuck me hard! I’m such a big slut I c-can’t live without it. Give it to me please. Please! PLEASE SIR!!” </p>
<p>As Sir Brennis abruptly surged past Merlin’s lips and promptly started violating his throat at a brutal rate. Merlin tried to feel nothing but grateful that at least it wouldn’t be dry. It was difficult though. Soon he felt other people touching him all over. One person was licking and sucking at his neck and ears, while another began fisting Merlin’s cock in a grip hard enough to choke out a fresh surge of agonized tears. He nearly died of mortification, when he felt several men start spitting on his hole and then licking it with their tongues. They started to finger fuck him with brutal efficiency, stretching him open too wide too fast. They were completely uncaring of the horrible burn caused by the vicious drag of their savagely thrusting fingers. Or perhaps that was what they wanted? </p>
<p>Suddenly the blow job stopped. He was roughly pushed onto all fours, and before he could gasp for breath Sir Brennis had lined himself up and was promptly ploughing in. Merlin let out an inhumane shriek and nearly passed out. The pain was too vast to quantify. He felt firm hands grab his hips and hold him a punishing grip and a new invader pushed its way into his wailing mouth. It felt like his whole body must surely be on fire. Hadn’t he been spared the flames? As he was being violently pushed between agony at both ends, he couldn’t even remember his name. The only thing he was anymore was pain. </p>
<p>They established something of a rotation, and he fancied that he might finally be growing numb to it all. That was until he felt another cock hungrily shredding its way into his ravaged passage, despite the fact that his arse was already filled by someone else. Somehow, he still found the energy to  scream a desperate plea to the heavens for deliverance, even as they attempted to double up in his poor throat as well. No doubt with the intention to muffle his tortured howls. </p>
<p>“What the hell is going on here?”</p>
<p>“Ah, Sir Percival, here to join the fun are you? Cause if not you’re letting in a terrible draft.”</p>
<p>Sir Percival had looked incensed at first. But his face had steadily grown stony as he took in the scene. He seemed to fight a desperate battle in his heart before speaking in a conflicted tone. </p>
<p>“My mistake, I’ll leave you to it.”</p>
<p>As Merlin watched him leave, he felt the hand round his own shaft pump him with enough vigour to spill his own unwilling seed. He watched the door shut behind the form of a man, who used to be one of his closest friends and he felt a part of his soul die. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Ok so i will explain about percy later, dont hate too much. (Though definately be angry i mean come on!)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 13 The kindness of kennel boys</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Ok this has the teen carer see a naked adult bit. In case thats triggering. But i wrote it gently in my humble opninion. Oh and platonic bed sharing that may be dubious if you think so? Im being paranoid.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The knights filed out, leaving Merlin in a crumpled heap. He just felt so broken. How was he supposed walk? He was choking in hysterical breaths. He dragged himself over to the corner to be sick. He retched over and over, despite the fact his stomach was long since purged of even bile. He could feel his stomach contracting mercilessly and if he hadn’t been so qualified in medicine, he would worried about actually throwing his stomach up. He almost laughed morbidly at the thought of his stomach jumping out of his mouth and falling to the floor. He wept bitterly, shaking fit to burst. He needed to get going. He still had so much to do. But his legs were heavy and his heart more so.</p>
<p>“Are you ok?”</p>
<p>Merlin attempted to shoot up, but he only succeeded in ultimately falling to the floor harder than ever. A pitiful whimper escaped him. He recognised the voice as belonging to Jason, a boy of fifteen summers who helped the kennel master with the dogs.</p>
<p>“You’re that wizard aren’t ya?”</p>
<p>Merlin nodded miserably and braced himself for the inevitable torment. Children could be so cruel. And young boys full of testosterone...he shuddered in anticipation. Why did he have to be him? If only he could be someone else? Some<em>thing</em> else.</p>
<p>“My ma says you’re the reason we’re all still alive. Can I get you anything? You look mighty sick.”</p>
<p>Merlin blinked owlishly in his complete befuddlement. Get him anything? Wasn’t that his job? He did things for others, not the other way round. He didn’t- wasn’t. No asking, yes that sounded right didn’t it? But no, he’d been asked. He should probably answer. The young lad was looking at him, politely patient. His throat was like broken glass. He spoke slowly, as though questioning if this was right.</p>
<p>“Water?” He coughed “Please Mister?” </p>
<p>Jason giggled good naturedly, whilst fetching a pitcher from the side.</p>
<p>“Wow can’t remember nobody calling me Mister before. Got some water. No cups, I’m afraid, but I got some clean bowls the dogs aint had at yet. Need a hand getting up?”</p>
<p>It was as he tried to get up again, that he realised he was still naked. He flushed in mortification, and tried pointlessly to cover himself. Not that he cared for his own modesty, that ship had not just sailed, but sunk. But for heaven’s sake this was a child! He couldn’t let him see him like this. <br/>“You now my da’s been pretty sick for a while now. I often help him get dressed and the like. I mean its not a problem or anything.”</p>
<p>Merlin put forth another herculean effort to tend to himself, but ultimately had to concede defeat and permit assistance. Jason helped him get dressed (painfully), helped him sit down on a stool (which was torture) and mopped his brow. Merlin had never felt so disgustingly small in his life. He was being helped, by a child, to drink water out of a dog bowl, whilst he shook like a new-born colt. Blood was streaking heavily down his thighs, and he was once again fighting the urge to be sick. His breathing hitched in despair. He felt revolted by his own weakness, as he leant into the hand that was smoothing calming circles into his back. </p>
<p>“Shhhh, it’s okay. I’m not gonna ask. But we really need to get you to Gaius. No, don’t shake your head at me, you could be really injured. I’ll help you get there and let the king know you’ve been sick. I’ll pick up some of your spare clothes. Ok?”</p>
<p>“Noo p-please Mister.”</p>
<p>“Sorry but I gotta do it. You really look ill. You don’t have to go into details like. And I wont tell the King much, just how your sick and need new clothes.”</p>
<p>Merlin was horrified at the prospect of going to his father (in all but blood) in this state. He was also terrified of his Master finding out, though he couldn’t understand why. Did he think he would be blamed? After all, he was the slave, if it’s anyone’s fault it must be his? Was he ashamed? Scared of further punishment? Or did some tiny part of his heart cling to notion that his King may actually be appalled, and the thought of having that minuscule ember of hope snuffed out was simply too much to bare? Anyway Arthur could NEVER know. But deep down he knew he needed treatment. So he stumbled upright, in a veritable fit of pure will power, and allowed himself to be led to the place he once called home. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gaius’s heart nearly burst out of his chest when he saw his ward being led in to his chambers barely able to walk. He noted his wards gait and instantly his blood ran cold. Surely not...</p>
<p>He dismissed the boy who bought Merlin in and instantly rushed to hold him. His heart broke when Merlin flinched violently and grew stiff as a board. He took the cue and instantly dropped his arms. </p>
<p>“My boy what’s happened?”</p>
<p>Merlin flinched again at the casual endearment and dropped his head further still. He spoke in a voice void of any emotion. </p>
<p>“Some Knights took use of me Sir.”</p>
<p>If that statement wasn’t enough to shatter his professional resolve, then the “Sir” was. Gaius practically sobbed. </p>
<p>“Merlin... please don’t.”</p>
<p>“No you don’t. Please. I just... I can’t. Not. I need. This has to be professional... because I can’t. Not when.. I’m not. Not strong enough- to be both. No. I can’t be this.. and be yours. I’m not strong enough. Please just treat me like you would anyone else. I cant take your kindness right now. I just CAN’T.” Merlin cracked on the final word. He let out and anguished howl, then dissolved into silent sobs. </p>
<p>How could he be this far gone in such a short time? What had happened to the young boy who had believed he could change the whole world himself, with nothing but magic and wit? Thinking back, maybe he’d been gone far longer than Gaius had thought. How he had failed this boy! He’d left him alone to deal with so much. All he’d ever done was help him fear, hold him back and teach him to doubt himself. And now his ward was a man who could save the world and still believe he hadn’t earned the right to save himself. </p>
<p>But if he needed him to be professional, then he could do that. He was a physician after all. He examined the boy calmly and dutifully. Showing utmost care but no familiarisation. He even answered the mage’s questions about how to “prepare himself” with remarkable restraint, given the outpouring of paternal anger he was feeling. He explained that being unable to own things like oil and plugs left him with little options except his own spit slicked fingers. But, with patience and time, he could acclimate himself a little to the stretch and train himself to be more relaxed. He could also try and work on erasing his gag reflex with a similar technique. </p>
<p>So when Jason returned with a change of clothes and instructions to return Merlin to the kings presence, he watched Merlin thank him politely, call him sir and leave with a bow. </p>
<p>Gaius wept. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Guinevere could tell Arthur was concerned about Merlin. She could also tell that he was going to deal with it badly. Thus when the positively haggard looking warlock was bid entrance, she wasn’t overly surprised when her husband started grilling him. </p>
<p>“What the hell was today about? You can’t just go wandering off as you like, sending a kennel boy to fetch and carry for you and deliver messages. Seriously? Every time I think we are getting somewhere you take us right back! You know how sensitive the situation is, do want Gaius to get in trouble? For people to think that he’s shielding you? And didn’t you think that I might to know from you that you were sick. What do you have to say for yourself?!”</p>
<p>Guinevere watched, disquieted, as Merlin calmly knelt and spoke in a voice that sounded horribly dead. </p>
<p>“Master I’m very sorry about today. I came over quite ill. Mr Jason found me and insisted I visit the physician. I tried to refuse, but I was ill and felt I had little choice, as he was taking me there regardless of my wishes.” His voice started to tremble slightly. “I know I have never given you any reason to believe or trust me Master, but I swear on my mothers life we were strictly professional. I would never want to risk getting him into trouble.” Raw emotion started to leech into his voice. “I would never want to let you down. I know I have, so many times. But I’ve made a vow to do better. I SWEAR IT. Please believe me Master, I couldn’t think of any other options.” His voice was edging on hysterical and Guinevere had had enough.</p>
<p>“Arthur enough of this nonsense. You can clearly see as well as I that he’s not well. Sickness doesn’t come when convenient and he’s not a machine. Calm down sweetheart its alright. Lets get you into bed, I’ll make you better.”</p>
<p>She proceeded to lead the stunned mage over to the bed and tuck them both in, encouraging him to hold her close. He did as he was bid, but not with out shooting a completely terrified glance in Arthur’s direction (though he was careful to avoid eye contact). She petted his head delicately and shushed him gently, hugging him close. </p>
<p>“GUINEVERE!” Arthur shouted, before casting a hasty look at the door and continuing in a scandalised whisper “you cant just take another man into our bed!!”</p>
<p>“Well as you’ve repeatedly said Arthur he’s not a man he’s our property and I wish to keep him close while I have a nap.” She said sweetly. Arthur shot her a withering glare a muttered mulishly.</p>
<p>“You shouldn’t coddle him..”</p>
<p>She snorted indelicately. </p>
<p>“Honestly Arthur you’re being ridiculous. If your that worried about appearances, we’ve enslaved him! That’s hardly an endorsement of our approval? And though simply giving him general care when he needs it is not “coddling”, why should it matter? We can do what we like with him as far as the law is concerned, so be that kindness or cruelty its frankly no ones else’s business. So be a king and stop worrying about ever persons judgment and do as you see fit. Be assertive! Now if you don’t mind I’m having a nap”</p>
<p>Queen Guinevere snuggled down and held the trembling wizard close, trying desperately to make him feel cared for. Her husband merely went about his business looking a bit forlorn and maybe a trifle jealous. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Chapter 14 Diaries and downward spirals</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Im afraid our boys are broken... Mentions of self harm and showcasing of a very deteriorated mental state. Also violence. You can never have too much violence.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The past six months had been really wonderful. Truly. He couldn’t remember ever being so utterly happy! I mean sure there had been bumps a long the way and not everything was perfect, but honestly this was great why hadn’t he done this years ago?</p>
<p>After the first time he’d slept in Arthur and Gwen’s bed, it had rapidly become a regular thing. He would curl up at the bottom ( the bed is soooo big!!!!) And when the horrible, nasty, bad dreams woke him up and made him cry, instead of kicking him out and whipping him like the naughty slave he is Arthur <em>holds</em> him. He’s so gentle and loving. He strokes his hair and tells everything’s ok. Gwen kisses his temple and holds his hand. He’s done nothing to deserve such kindness but he cherishes it none the less. He can’t even remember the last time they actually punished him. </p>
<p>Of course it hadn’t been like that right away. Even when he first started sharing their bed and the nights would be inexplicably tender, his Master would always become indifferent in the morning light. But as time moved on Arthur’s behaviour became quite erratic. Sometimes he would be quite irritable with him. Other times he would seem to regarding him warily. Sometimes he looked like he was in awe.</p>
<p>Then there was the incident.</p>
<p>Merlin shuddered at the memory, a memory so black it seemed suck at the edges of his soul. He still, to this day, doesn’t know what it was he had done. It must have been something awful. He prayed to every God and Goddess that he never does whatever it was again. </p>
<p>Arthur had come back from doing his paperwork one unremarkable day in a towering fury. The likes of which he had <em>never</em> seen before. Before he had had time to even shiver Arthur touched the discipline gem with truly elephantine proportions of malice. He was spitting with rage, denouncing him a murderer and a traitor-which yes he was, but that was why he was a slave right? He had kept him writhing for hours and when he finally cut him loose from the gems control, he threw him onto the table. Merlin had been on the cusp of unconsciousness when Arthur had pressed the control gem and demanded that he wasn’t allowed to fall asleep until Arthur had told him he was allowed to. He had then torn Merlin’s shirt off and struck him as hard as he could with a belt, buckle side down. Worse still, he had had used the gem to command that for everyone lash he had to relieve a time he’d killed someone. It had been the most heinous torture conceived. Truly shattering the Warlocks fractured mind. And it still hadn’t been over. Arthur had had him publically flogged, then thrown him in the dungeons with instructions that he receive no pain medication and only enough treatment to keep him from bleeding to death. He couldn’t even sleep because of Arthur’s instruction to remain conscious. </p>
<p>So he had been awake when Arthur had burst into the dungeons three days later, looking frantic and distraught. Arthur had looked horrified to see, the no doubt dying, wizard still conscious. He had near wrenched the door off its hinges and bundled him up like precious cargo, telling him to sleep. </p>
<p>When he had opened his eyes, he had found himself wrapped in Arthur’s arms, in his bed and everything had been different. Arthur had cut his chores significantly, kept him close almost always and was forever petting him. He gave him sweetmeats and fresh fruits. He didn’t just let him simply wash anymore, he ran him hot baths filled with lovely oils. He would sooth his scared back and wash his hair. And even though he would bath naked Arthur never peeked or took liberties. And though, on very rare days he looked like he was going to, Arthur never punished him again. </p>
<p>As such Merlin was having to take matters into his own hands. Merlin had realised that Arthur was simply too good and pure to punish him properly. He was a vile creature after all, underserving of mercy. So whilst his weak heart feverishly craved Arthurs kindness, his soul demanded harshness. And having realised that it would be selfish of him to taint his glorious King with his own wickedness, even through the medium of discipline, he had resolved to ensure he sufficiently punished himself. </p>
<p>Whenever he was a stupid, useless, worthless, bad bad bad monster and Arthur gave him nothing but love a mercy for it, Merlin would consume it ravenously. Then he would sneak off to purge himself of the reprieve. He had been worried people would notice. So he started with pinching, and scratching innocuously. But it wasn’t a fair trade. He needed to hurt more. So soon he had begun cutting his feet, underneath, so no one would see. He had even, on occasion, broken some of his toes. </p>
<p>As such, he made zero effort to avoid Sir Brennis’s extra curricular activities. It certainly wasn’t scheduled, but it was still happening around every two weeks. The amount of people had steadily grown. Last time there had been seventeen people. He regularly took the effort to stretch himself, as he couldn’t take the risk he’d be too injured to work. But mostly, he did nothing to minimise these encounters. It still left him sick and shaken. It hurt his body and soul. But he knew he deserved it. And when the nightmares shook him awake each night and he foolishly sobbed, Arthur held him close and he’d never felt so loved. </p>
<p>He was even doing magic again. Safely of course. It still sent shivers of fear down his spine every time and made him want to curl up in a ball. But it was working! More and more people in need had come to request medical treatment, that Arthur had graciously allowed. Then he helped a crop blight that had devastated their fields. Then the council had suggested he help grow more food, to help with the merge with Essetir. Then they asked for tradable fruits. Merlin grew a whole orchard of exotic fruit trees, that bloomed fresh fruit every day. So they had been able trade them for lots of money and they’d employed lots of people too. Then he had put protective enchantments on the walls and the swords and armour, of Knights that were willing. And he was allowed to do small tricks and chores as well. Arthur wasn’t even flinching any more, he looked fond. So even though the fear was still there each time he cast, he also found it deliciously exhilarating to be able to prove his usefulness and compliance so well. He was slowly proving to the world he could have a purpose. He might never be able to truly atone for the disgusting crime of his heinous birth, but he was being given a chance.</p>
<p>Merlin was deliriously happy. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Arthur was miserable. Soul-breakingly, despairingly miserable. How could he have messed up so badly? Why, just why had he judged in anger all those months ago? When he had declared Merlin’s sentence he had been sure that it was fair. He had been sure that he had not allowed his anger and hurt any quarter in the decision. How blind he had been; how inconceivable arrogant! He had been so closed off he hadn’t let himself believe that their could possibly be any information that could change the facts. </p>
<p>Then he had read Merlin’s diary.</p>
<p>It had felt like the rug had been pulled out from under him. No, it felt like the floor had been pulled out from under him. He was sinking into a terrible abyss, realising he knew nothing. <em>Born</em> with magic? My God the implications of that simple fact was enough to leave him undone. But then followed a tale of someone brave and kind. So selfless and giving, even to his oppressors. A boy turned man who had saved so many, so often. Arthur had found that hard enough to bare. But the feeling of helplessness that permeated the pages was suffocating. It reeked of loneliness and a desperate desire to belong somewhere and be worth something. And despite his ,frankly terrifying, power Merlin seemed so lost. He was always desperately scrambling to do the right thing, but completely blind on how to. Arthur knew what it was like to stand apart from everyone else. To make decisions that have huge costs. But he had been trained by the best in the land. He had had teachers and guardian’s, experts and council members. There were rules and precedents, examples. The stories of his forefathers, the legacy of his lineage was always there. And he had friends. Friends that could understand and support him, weather it be through diligent advice or just being there. Arthur had never really been alone, regardless of how it had felt sometimes. Merlin had nothing. No structure, guidance, support or even knowledge. He didn’t even understand himself most of the time and yet had to deal with situations fully trained army’s would balk at. All he had was Gaius. A man who, talent wise, Merlin had outclassed with his first breath, and who had buried himself in lies and denial to survive in Uther’s court. A man whose response was always do nothing, for that was all Gaius had ever done. A man whose small mindedness of age and fierceness of his love for his ward, had served to make him more paranoid and cautious than ever. Camelot must have been the most toxic environment ever. Always a risk. Always danger. Never letting anyone truly see you. Always lying and hiding, scrambling lost in the dark. And all to save people who would turn on you in an instant. </p>
<p>Then came the passage with Cornelius Sigan. The promise to free the dragon. The monster that had caused so much damage to the city, killed so many. Gone was the sympathy. Merlin was once again the vilest betrayer, the sickest of beasts. If the fury after the battle had been tempered with logic and mostly cold, this was an inferno. Between the workload stress of bringing Essetir into the fold, and the emotional turmoil of the diary, Arthur’s control on his temper had worn thin. He had truly exploded and had seethed in the purest rage imaginable. Merlin was already completely at his mercy and with violent malice he had vowed to show none. His vengeance on the helpless boy had been terrible. He had resolved to let Merlin wither away slowly from his torment, relishing that the pain of his passing would be drawn out and immense. </p>
<p>After throwing him in the dungeons, with a sickening sense of satisfaction, he jumped ahead to the passage about the dragon to get some sense of vindication. But it was not a story of a sorcerer finally taking his revenge and revelling in the death. But someone who had NO choice. Someone who tried their hardest to help. Someone who truly hated themselves. Someone who paid the price, as their father died in their arms, and they weren’t allowed even a second to mourn. With his mind spiralling out of control he read the passages he’d skipped. Learned of Uther’s hypocrisy and the nature of his birth. That alone changed EVERYTHING. But Merlin defending Uther, for Arthur’s sake, was unfathomable. Especially so soon after Gaius had narrowly escaped the flames himself. Then there was the start of Morgana’s decent and the terrible pain in Arthur’s heart to realise, that it was her fear that corrupted her. Making it Camelot’s fault they had created their worst enemy. He still couldn’t even think of Freya. Just reading it had damn near killed him; with the visceral anguish those pages had resonated. He had in his hands incontrovertible proof that Merlin was the single most amazing person in the whole world, which Arthur figured must make him the worst. He had positively howled in misery that night. </p>
<p>He had no clue how to fix it. I mean he had a sort of plan, legally speaking. He had been trying to acclimate people to magic. After reading the diary, he knew he had to find a way to legalise magic. So he was slowly getting Merlin to do more and more, in an effort prove that it can be useful and benign. He felt like if he gradually got people used to it, whilst everyone was busy with the Essetir situation, by the time it was fully resolved he should be in a position to start slowly rolling the ban back. First with healers, then for crop growing. After that he would allow protective enchantments. Then he would lower the sentences to fines and perhaps banishment for other magic. He would make sure it was clear that each case would be judged individually, with all evidence and motives taken into account. Finally he would lift the ban. Then gain Merlin his freedom by showcasing his heroics and pointing out that magic wasn’t illegal anymore, so his actions should absolve him. The problem was Merlin himself. </p>
<p>He was broken. Arthur’s savagery had finally shattered his friends fragile mind. Since his brutal flogging, he had truly snapped. Arthur only had to frown or scowl lightly for Merlin to feverishly seek a way to please him. An annoyed mood could reduce Merlin to desperate tears and a neurotic disposition. When the anger of reading about his Fathers death and Morgana’s involvement, invariably, caused some frostiness on his behalf, Merlin had lost all sense of reason. After growing more erratic and distraught, with every failed attempt at making Arthur happy Merlin had let out a primitive wail and began clutching at Arthurs trousers like a terrified infant. He pushed a belt into Arthur’s hands wildly muttering “I’ll help you make me better Master.” over and over again.  Arthur had thrown up.</p>
<p>Mostly the nausea came, ironically, when Merlin was happy. Because there was something so profoundly wrong with it. It could have been the blankness in his eyes, that suggested his mind had become as simple as Arthur had always joked he was. It could be the fact that he vacillated between joy, despair and terror so frequently it suggested he had the emotional range of a two year old. But mostly, it was about why Merlin was happy. Merlin was a proud warrior, a commander of dragons, a wise guardian and mischievously witty. No man like that should be so fantastically happy to simply have people not be annoyed with him. He shouldn’t become giddy with joy at the faintest hint of acknowledgment. He shouldn’t be so reverentially grateful for the barest modicum of general care. And he definitely shouldn’t drink up every sprap of praise with an animalistic need that suggests he’ll die if he doesn’t get it. Just how devoid of praise and acknowledgement had Merlin’s life been? He had forever been the butt of the jokes, always overlooked, teased and mocked, even if it was kind hearted. And he constantly had to hide from his own achievements. It must have been so painful, even if he didn’t acknowledge it. Arthur had ruined Merlin’s life and had been doing so since they day they met. This was merely the death blow. </p>
<p>So, with his slow plan in place, all Arthur could do was try and keep him happy and looked after. He doted on him, giving affection and love to the touch starved mage freely. He treasured and petted him, praising him excessively. He was worried that buying into Merlin’s needs might be doing more harm than good. But he couldn’t just free him now without anarchy and he had too many other responsibilities right now to plan another way. So he simply vowed to keep him happy now and deal with the fallout later. But somehow he would get his friend back to full health. He HAD too.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Chapter 15 Percival’s Past</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Can i just say SO MUCH AGNST! Warnings for past history of child and infant death</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Percival was conflicted.</p>
<p>That was an understatement. He knew sorcery was evil. He had seen it first hand. He had felt the sting of it. He bore the scars. </p>
<p>Percival had married very young. A mere boy of sixteen, to his childhood sweetheart Elaine. They had been best friends growing up and soon love had blossomed. She lost her parents at fifteen and came to live with his family, that consisted of his mother, father, his two brothers and his little sister. Then after they realised the depth of their love they married and started a family of their own. They had twin sons Japheth and Gareth, and later a girl named Molly. Despite the fact that the house was relatively small, they all lived together. After all, they were quite poor. It was cramped and hardly luxurious, but they were happy. </p>
<p>Then sorcery happened. His sister came home crying that she was a murderer and had been cursed. A local lad of vicious intent had tried to rape her. She had instinctively grabbed a rock and hit his head with it. The boy’s mother was the town witch and Freya said she had cursed her. They didn’t know what the curse would do. Until that night, when his darling sister had turned into a monstrous black cat with wings. She had torn through their roof, spitting and snarling, hungry for flesh. He hid with his wife, children and mother desperate to keep them safe. His younger brother was with them. But his father and his elder brother went out to try and calm Freya. He found their mutilated bodies in the morning, along with evidence that his sister had fled. </p>
<p>Not long after, Cenred’s army had come demanding they bend the knee, submit to his rule and give over outrageous taxes. When they refused Cenred’s sorcerers cursed their crops to be poisonous. He lost his mother and remaining brother. He lost Japheth. Then, when the town fought back, the battle-mages came. They reigned down fire on their tiny town. He took Molly and Elaine took Gareth and they fled. In the chaos he lost sight of them. He doubled back and found them burnt to a crisp. He couldn’t find his infant daughter a wet nurse in time. She passed. </p>
<p>He never moved on of course. How could he? But he used his pain to fuel a new purpose. He trained hard, not just in swordcraft, but in body. He was never going to be powerless like that again. He bonded with Lancelot over shared suffering and purpose. Though he never spoke about the exact circumstances of course. Those details he kept close to his heart. So when Lance had suggested they go help Prince Arthur reclaim Camelot from Cenred’s army he agreed. Partly out of loyalty to his friend and mostly as a fuck you to the army that killed his family. He never expected to become a knight. </p>
<p>It was amazing. He was part of a brotherhood. For the first time in years, he could breathe without grief stealing his every breath. He didn’t just have a purpose here, he was part of a family. It had felt like treason to acknowledge that to himself. As if he was tainting the memory of his family by daring to not feel their loss quite so keenly. But as much as a person can be desperate to hang on to the pain, time really does heal all wounds. With scars, obviously, but no longer festering. </p>
<p>Then the dorocha came. So many families lay dead. Killed by the taint of sorcery. It ripped his heart open afresh to see the total destruction aimed indiscriminately at innocents. He tried his best to save people, especially the children. But once again he felt so powerless. And his closest friend had died. The one man who truly understood him, the man to whom he owed his new family. A family that wouldn’t be complete without him in it. Lancelot was dead at the hands of a vengeful witch. </p>
<p>It became apparent that being a Knight of Camelot meant they regularly had to fight magic. Magic and treachery went had in hand, the evidence was overwhelming. That was what they fought against. Nothing could convince him otherwise.</p>
<p>Then Merlin happened.</p>
<p>Once again magic had struck. Here was a young lad who had been brave, kind and honest and because he chose to mess with powers beyond his control he was a killer of thousands. Magic had blackened the heart of the purest soul he had ever met. He had been furious. Was there to be no end to what he would lose to that foul art? What had possessed Merlin, of all people, to start dabbling in the darkest of pass times? He tried his best to sever all feeling of camaraderie he had. The Merlin he knew was gone, was nothing but an empty shell filled with the evil of witchcraft. </p>
<p>Except it didn’t feel that way. For all that did change, Merlin was still gentle and kind and desperate to help. Arguably even more so. He tried to say it was because of the collar, that Arthur was forcing him to be that way. But it didn’t ring true. He couldn’t even says it was because his magic was blocked, because the king had him using it all the time! It was helping and Percival couldn’t stand it because magic couldn’t help. It just couldn’t. It could only destroy  he’d seen it. But Merlin was healing people, multiplying food, making fruit trees grow exotic fruit. How could something so destructive create LIFE!? It didn’t make sense. And then, the protection. How could it protect? It started him thinking on a dangerous path that was only getting worse each day. </p>
<p>The budding relationship he had tentatively started with Gwaine had failed spectacularly. They had parted on bad terms when he left for his six week scouting trip. It had only devolved since. Gwaine had essentially been inconsolable over what was happening to his best friend. They had argued incessantly, bordering on violence. Each refused to budge an inch. Gwaine kept calling Merlin a hero, insisting that he must have been keeping them safe for years. He talked of tree branches and disappearing armies and how they always seemed to have luck on their side. When he said Lancelot probably knew, because they had always seemed so secretive and how exactly did Lance kill the griffin anyway? Percival had punched him then. He had been tempted to view this as yet another loss magic had cost him, but deep down he knew that was a stretch.</p>
<p>After that he barely even saw Gwaine. No body did. He hadn’t officially given up his knighthood, but Percival hadn’t seen him outside the tavern in months. But still his words stuck with him. Growing in potency. Merlin clearly had powerful magic. So he must have been practicing for years. Yet he never harmed them in all that time. He hadn’t harmed them at all. It was their enemies that perished. He could have turned on them, killed them, openly supported Morgana or even taken Camelot itself. Instead he had knelt before them. Submitted himself for judgement, without a word in his defence. He bore his enslavement, their derision and their hate without a hint of malice or anger. He acted so eager to please, so desperate to help them, without a thought for himself. And it may have been exacerbated by fear and a damaged mental state, but it still rang sincere. Merlin genuinely wanted to help them and Percival couldn’t bear it because if it was true....</p>
<p>He hadn’t forgotten that day in the kennel. He had tried. So hard. He’d tell himself it wasn’t his business. This is what happened to slaves. That it was a just punishment. A thousand empty platitudes that had just become a screaming alarm of guilt over time. He hadn’t joined in. But he hadn’t stopped them. They were the type of people he despised and he was allowing them to get away with this en masse because he hated sorcerers. But if magic wasn’t the problem , how was he ever supposed to live with himself? He knew they were still doing it. Without thinking about it through the veneer of hate, thinking of it as just Merlin made him want to cry. But he was too confused and too cowardly to do something about it. Too afraid to peel back the layer of prejudice and look at who the man in the mirror had become. It was taking its toll. </p>
<p>He’d see his sisters face. In water. A cup, a bath, a puddle. Any water. She looked at him with such anger and disgust. Was it because he was practically condoning, through his non action, the very thing that had ruined her life? It would certainly make sense. But somehow he felt that it was even more personal. Though he couldn’t work out how. He chalked it up to guilt. </p>
<p>As he walked the halls of Camelot he tried to shake off his useless contemplation. He saw the objects of his conflicted mind enter a set of disused chambers and his heart sank. </p>
<p>He whirled round, when he felt a light touch ghost along his arm. But he saw nothing but an empty corridor. Then he heard, clear as day, the voice of his sister in his head pleading.</p>
<p>“Save him. Please save him."</p>
<p>Percival’s mind focussed. He shoved aside his doubts and marched with purpose. He found himself outside the Kings chambers and took a deep breath. </p>
<p>He knocked. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I love freya. So regardless of how convulted i needed her in this. So bite me. FREYLIN FOREVER. (Though merthur is hawt come on)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Chapter 16 Confessions and Caring</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Oh dear people arent happy... self harm attempt</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Come in. Ah Sir Percival. What can I do for you?”</p>
<p>Arthur noted that Percival looked somewhat diminished. He was pale, shaky and notably guilty. He was instantly alert. He could also feel dread coiling in his stomach. This would be bad, he could tell. </p>
<p>“Sire.. I have something to conf-bring to your attention my Lord. It is an urgent and sensitive matter pertaining to someone close to you. I.. I fear it will be very difficult for you to hear.”</p>
<p>Arthur took a calming breath, seriously fearing where this was going. He prompted.</p>
<p>“I’m listening.”</p>
<p>“Sire... It’s Merlin. People hurt him.”</p>
<p>Arthur spoke slowly, hoping that this was a misunderstanding.</p>
<p>“People.. hurt... him? How so? I mean, he is a slave and therefore not treated well by the court. Are you talking in general? Or are you talking about a specific incident?”</p>
<p>“There are people here who.. use him.”</p>
<p>Arthur echoed hollowly, as though desperately seeking a different meaning to the words.</p>
<p>“Use him?”</p>
<p>Percival seemed to fortify himself before stating firmly. </p>
<p>“They rape him. As a group.”</p>
<p>Arthur barely heard the breath leave his body over the roaring thunder of his heartbeat sounding in his ears. He bellowed.</p>
<p>“WHAT!!!” His voice promptly cracked and he choked out “How do you know this?” His expression suddenly turned stony. He glared at Percival and asked “Tell me you haven’t...?”</p>
<p>“NO! No. But.” Percival bowed his head “I did nothing Sire. I knew it was wrong, but I ignored it. For nothing more than anger at another I let it carry on. And it’s been happening regularly sire. From the start. I caught them in the Kennels and I’m not sure that was even the first.”</p>
<p>Fury seized Arthur and he grabbed hold of Percival’s shirt before snarling “Where are they!?” </p>
<p>“A vacant guest room in the West Quadrant sire.”</p>
<p>He dropped his fist from Percival’s shirt and uttered in a deadly voice “Stay here! Don’t you dare leave this room!” He rushed from his rooms yelling at the Guards “Go to the vacant guest rooms in the West Quadrant and arrest anyone there. Let me know when you’ve locked them up.”</p>
<p>Arthur returned to his rooms casting a positively hateful glare at Percival. He took a deep breath and pressed the Summoning Gem, praying Merlin would be able to teleport in what ever condition he was in. <br/>In a whirl of light, Merlin landed in a heap at Arthurs feet. He was naked and covered in sweat. He was shaking like a new born colt, as he tried to push himself up. His eyes, which had been glazed over, seemed to struggle to focus. He swiped his hand across his face and look around blearily. When he recognised Arthur, he swiftly lowered his gaze and croaked in a horribly thick voice.</p>
<p>“Master?”</p>
<p>Arthur’s heart nearly stopped. Gods! What was happening? How could he have been so blind? Merlin looked awful. Arthur couldn’t believe how he could have missed it. He bathes him for heavens sake! But he had never looked at his lower half. He always averted his eyes for getting in and out. And the scented water always obscured his view slightly, especially as he wasn’t actively looking. But this... he should have seen. His thighs were streaked with blood. There were bruises on his arse cheeks that were a livid black and lurid purple, layered over older bruises of sickly yellow. It was clear they were sustained over a long period. It looked like a violent painting on an alabaster canvas, all different colours layered over each other, seeping in and mixing in dangerous swirls. His hole was... nauseating. Hideously puffy, crusted in scabs and bruised to an ebony colour. It was currently gaped mildly, trickling out copious amount of blood and semen. Arthurs vision blurred with unshed tears and his breathing hitched.</p>
<p> “Master...?” </p>
<p>Merlin made to reach out, looking concerned for Arthur’s well being. Arthur felt the fury well up inside of him. He needed to get out of here before the dam broke and he did more damage. In this state there was no way Merlin would be able to differentiate between Arthur being angry at him and angry for him. With a will of iron Arthur took a calming breath and addressed Percival. </p>
<p>“I’m fetching Gaius. Stay with him. Afterwards send Gaius to my fathers chambers where I’ll be waiting. Then send some servants to get a bath drawn. Don’t leave till I get back. And Percival... we WILL be discussing it tomorrow.” And with that Arthur stormed out. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Percival stood in Arthur’s chambers feeling hideously awkward. He tried fruitlessly to ignore the situation in front of him. It wasn’t working. His sins had been laid bare. He couldn’t escape the enormity of his culpability. The evidence lay at his feet in all its grotesque glory. How had he managed to blind himself this much? He had been turning a blind eye to the Warlocks suffering, but surely even a blind man could tell how monumentally damaged the lad was. He had had an inkling. But seeing it up close was harrowing. Merlin seemed forlorn at Arthur’s departure and was rapidly growing scared and agitated. He had curled inwards and was gazing at his feet muttering distraughtly. </p>
<p>“Master angry. Must help. How? My fault. Bad slave. Useless. Worthless. Must punish. Punish. Be good. Fix. Better. Yes. Master be happy.”</p>
<p>Merlin shuffled over to Arthur’s bed and started to look under it, seemingly having forgotten Percival’s existence. He grasped a spike that looked like it had broken off of a mace. In a broken detachment, Merlin turned his foot over and prepared to cut. </p>
<p>“STOP THAT!” Percival screamed in undignified terror. Sweet lord! The state of his foot... how could he walk? The sole was practically shredded and by the looks of it infected. It looked like he had been doing this for weeks, yet the infection was new. Percival could only fathom that perhaps Merlin used to sterilise the blade, but his mental state had decompensated to point where he now didn’t bother.</p>
<p>In his urgency he had forgotten just how fragile Merlin’s mind really was. He cringed inwardly when Merlin positively cowered after Percival’s exclamation. He looked on in pain as Merlin pressed his forehead to the floor and whispered in a terrified voice. </p>
<p>“Sorry Sir. Sorry very sorry.”</p>
<p>Percival’s heart ached with self recriminations. He sat down on the floor, fighting back tears. He urged Merlin to sit back up and rest against the bottom of Arthur’s bed. Percival had always struggled with words. Now, more than ever, he was stymied. He aimed for reassuring and casual and, predictably, missed a mile wide. </p>
<p>“There there. Not much use if your pressed against the floor eh?”</p>
<p>He saw Merlin’s eyes widen, as though in understanding, with perhaps the faintest iota of betrayal. It was snuffed out before it could really form. Instead his face smoothed out and he placidly reached for Percival’s belt. Percival jerked back stunned.</p>
<p>“What are you doing?”</p>
<p>“I.. You? Wanted use, yes? Sir?”</p>
<p>Percival’s blood turned to ice. Could he really do nothing right? He felt like he must be being punished. Then he immediately felt worse, as the arrogance of that statement hit him. <em>Merlin</em> was the one suffering, not him. When he had vowed to become strong, it had been so he could be powerful enough to protect the innocent. He had vowed to never abuse that power to take advantage. He may not have taken part in the worst of it, but he had ignored it. He had looked on from his position of privilege and safety, not lifting a finger to help. Worse, he hadn’t even always seen the issue so much. He had always opposed rapists on principal, but because of prejudice he hadn’t actually opposed on behalf of the victim. He had thought that to ever protect a sorcerer would be disgracing his family. Now, looking at the face of the kindest man he had ever known stare at him in confusion, because Percival didn’t want to rape him, he knew his family would be disgusted at his actions. </p>
<p>Percival sobbed. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Arthur’s long overdue conversation with Gaius had just hurt. He had initially been shocked and furious to discover that Gaius knew, at least partially, what had been going on, albeit without names, numbers or how often. When he had demanded to know why he hadn’t done anything, he felt himself turn hollow at the response. Gaius had assumed he wouldn’t care and didn’t want to make things worse. Considering Arthur had totally disregarded Gaius’s attempt at defence after the battle, he knew the fault for that assumption lay solely with him. </p>
<p>He completely broke down when Gaius talked of the injuries sustained. He knew he could never earn the old man’s forgiveness, but he sought it the same. He talked about if Merlin could be healed mentally and was dismayed to learn that it could very well be permanent. Even if he came back to himself, he would be damaged. All he could do was give him care and praise and slowly try to encourage him to think more for himself. He had grown cripplingly dependant on instructions. But the way forward would not be easy. There were dark days ahead. Especially regarding the self harm. That had been the worst wound to bear.</p>
<p>Gaius had suggested not ordering Merlin to stop, that would just make him feel more powerless and hurt. Instead he suggested near constant vigilance. And communication, asking him to be truthful with his feelings. Ask him to tell Arthur when he felt he should be punished. Then Arthur could listen and explain his reasons for not doing so rather than dismiss them out of hand. His pain had to be validated. It was fraught with issues and would be arduous even if there were no problems. And there would likely be problems. The truth was there was no easy way out of this quagmire. It would take time, effort, patience and no small amount of luck. But he was resolved to try. And no matter what it took he swore that no-one was going to touch Merlin again. He bathed Merlin gently that evening and bandaged his poor feet as Gaius had shown. He applied the salves the Merlin’s broken behind, not even feeling the barest hint of arousal at Merlin’s naked state. As he tucked him in, he was besieged by an overwhelming wave of protectiveness and possessiveness. Merlin was his to protect.</p>
<p>And he would. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Chapter 17 Petty Treason</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Dub con kiss. Also violence.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Arthur tried desperately to keep a sense of control. As much as he would like to savagely rip the bastards filing into his throne room limb from limb, he regrettably couldn’t. He needed Knights more than ever, hell they were in the middle of a recruitment drive. It pissed him off further that he couldn’t even charge them with rape. You couldn’t rape property after all. Arthur ground his teeth and silently seethed. What a fine mess he had made for himself!</p>
<p>He had already gotten as much as information as he could from Percival and one of the young knights whom had turned green and teary at being arrested. He knew that they were all hideously guilty. He also knew that Sir Brennis was the instigator and the one who had been by far the most violent. He had the eighteen participators stood in a crowd with Percival stood off to the side. He sat on his throne with calm affect and let them stew. Merlin was curled up at his feet wrapped in blankets. He had a cushion under his mutilated feet. He had had to carry Merlin here. He was loathe to have Merlin in the same room as these a sadistic arseholes, but he didn’t want to leave him alone in his injured state. He took a deep breath and played his opening move. </p>
<p>“So it seems to me you’ve been having some issues regarding my property. You all seem to be harbouring under the delusion that you are free to use my property as you see fit. That you could use it without my knowledge or my consent. Would you also see fit to use my comb, or my sword? Should I expect come back from a hard days training to find you in my bath tub or asleep in my bed?”</p>
<p>His voice had risen steadily and Guinevere placed a calming hand on his arm. How she could be so calm he’d never know. Her rage had been truly terrifying when he had told her. But, like a true stateswoman, she had cooled her temper effectively till it was little more than a stony face and glare of superior disdain. Sir Brennis stepped forward with a conciliatory expression and made his opening gambit. </p>
<p>“I understand how it may seem that way Sire and I mean no disrespect. But its not exactly a fair comparison. I mean we have combs and baths and beds ourselves, so of course it would be outrageous for us to use yours, but we have no slaves of our own, what would you have as do?” Sir Brennis displayed what he assumed was a winning grin, as though he had merely been caught with his had in the kitchens cake tin. Arthur simply fumed and spat dangerously. </p>
<p>“So if I have something you don’t, that makes it fair game does it? Should I worry about one of you taking a liking to my crown next? Perhaps you should be extra vigilant that your servants don’t take your gold from you, as they have none themselves.” Sir Brennis’s smile flickered. Before returning hastily. </p>
<p>“Sire, I fear this is a case of simple misunderstanding on both our parts. I mean the boy may be in your possession, but he belongs to the court. He was spared for the sake of Camelot after all. Its also well known that whilst a Master’s orders cant be superseded, access to a slave has never been restricted for the nobility. The only time that would be true is in the case of personal bed slaves and the law is clear that they must bear their Master’s mark, so that their status is visible.”</p>
<p>“His clothing bares my mark!” </p>
<p>“But not his skin. Clothing can be taken off after all.” he leered “But really Sire if you’re that possessive of your prize bitch just mark him up, then we’ll know where we stand. Really all I can do is offer our apologies.” Sir Brennis was smirking with an overwhelming sense of arrogance, completely confident that he’d won the game. </p>
<p>“Well in the instance of clearing up “misunderstandings,” let me illuminate to you gravity of the situation. You said that the freedom of use mustn’t impinge upon the Masters orders? Well your ministrations have affected his abilities to carry out of my orders. Both through taking him away from tasks I have assigned him, like retrieving my breakfast or looking after my hunting bitches and through damaging him with your excessively harsh treatment to the point where he has required medical attention. You have pointed out that he is in service to the court and yes he is, as a defensive weapon. You would never think to blunt all the swords in the armoury or cut the string on our long bows? Yet for the sake of your selfish gratification you believe it is appropriate to damage our most effective weapon, both in general and especially against sorcery? We at war with Morgana! Yet you would deny our people their best chance of survival to slake your lust. If we were attacked now, your actions could even be enough to ensure she gains control. For now I will assume this was not your intention and was merely a gross mis-assessment of the situation. However these are troubled times and an example must be made, so that people can understand the extent of the threat caused. For this reason Sir Brennis you are charged with petty treason..”</p>
<p>“But your Majesty..”</p>
<p>“Silence! Don’t make me assume you were acting with intent and charge you with high treason! For this you will be stripped of your titles and holdings and you will be banished after receiving thirty lashes of a braided whip. The rest of you will be charged with abetting petty treason and receive twenty lashes and receive a fifty coin fine. Sir Ernst your sentence shall be halved in acknowledgment of information received and taking into account the naivety of your age and the fact that you never actually had a chance to do what you had intended, due to the fact that yesterdays “meeting” was disbanded prematurely.”</p>
<p>Arthur turned from the main crowd,</p>
<p>“Sir Percival for your failure to report you will be charged with conduct unbecoming your station. You will receive five lashes.” Percival bowed his head in acceptance. But Sir Brennis apparently couldn’t tell he was approaching a checkmate and still persevered. </p>
<p>“But your Majesty, I’ve always been loyal to the crown. How can we be sure you’ve not been beguiled by this creature? He is a dangerous sorcerer after all. You have always shown him an inappropriate amount of favouritism. I’m part of the Nobility! Its unprecedented for me to be punished simply because you wish to coddle a WORTHLESS SLAVE!”</p>
<p>Arthur snorted in a condescending fashion. “His magic is restrained and if he held any sway with me would he be a slave? Any treatment I give him is at my pleasure not his and I am under no obligations to explain it to you. But to assuage any doubts you might have as to his place I intend to clear up the matter so no one can be confused again. Guards fetch me a branding iron with the Pendragon crest on it!”</p>
<p>Was it just his fate to hurt Merlin? He wished he could kill these sick bastards and snap the collar of Merlin’s neck. But if freedom were to last he had to be above any suspicion of collusion, favouritism or enchantment. He had to hurt him now to save him tomorrow. It didn’t make him feel any better. <br/>He carried Merlin over to the round table and had the Guards hold him up. He leant over to Merlin’s ear and whispered.</p>
<p>“You can use magic so it doesn’t hurt. You can just act.” </p>
<p>He pinned Merlin’s right hand to the table and pressed the white hot brand into Merlin’s skin. God the stench! Just like execution. Oh lords, he hadn’t even thought! He was burning him. It must be like his worse nightmare. What was worse was that Merlin clearly wasn’t acting when he blubbered like a scared child. He definitely hadn’t masked the pain. Yet he wasn’t even attempting to flee. His hand was perfectly still. Arthur dismissed his audience with instructions that they would be awaiting their punishment in the dungeons until they could organise the mass flogging that had been ordered. <br/>As soon as they were gone Arthur practically crumpled. He cradled Merlin’s hand and ordered him to try and heal it, but leave a scar. Merlin tried his hardest as he cried. </p>
<p>“Merlin why didn’t you use magic to help?”</p>
<p>Merlin just stared at him, so placidly bewildered. Arthurs heart broke. </p>
<p>“Merlin. I’m so sorry I hurt you. I’ve done everything wrong and I cant fix it. But I need you to come back to me. Please come back to me. I’ve ruined everything and I broke you, but I need you to get better.”</p>
<p>Arthur was crying freely now. Merlin seemed to reach out to touch his face. In a broken tentative voice he spoke.</p>
<p>“Ar-th-ur?” Before he abruptly shut done become scared and anxious. “Sorry Master. ‘ll be good. Fix. Need fix sorry. Bad slave.”</p>
<p>He made to drop to his knees but Arthur, uncaring of Guinevere’s presence, hauled him up. </p>
<p>And kissed him.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Ok so i took liberties with the definition of petty treason. But im the author and hes the king, so whatever.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Chapter 18 Polyamory and perished peace treaties</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Just be nice people ok. Listen to gwen because shes sensible.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Arthur pulled back completely stunned. What on earth was that?! And he’d done it in front of his wife. How could he do this? What could he possibly say to her to even explain, let alone make it right? And then there was Merlin. How could he have kissed his best friend when he had no option to refuse and he knew mind was already too confused to even know what it wants. He turned to Guinevere expecting hate and anger. Instead all he saw was pity and sorrow. </p>
<p>“Oh Arthur. That really could have been timed better don’t you think?”</p>
<p>“Wha- I don’t. But?”</p>
<p>“Shush. Its ok. I’m not angry. No really, I’m not. I get it. You love him."</p>
<p>Arthur rushed to deny it, but Guinevere forestalled him. </p>
<p>“I’m not saying you don’t love me. I know you do. But you love him as well.” She sighed contemplatively.</p>
<p>“Everyone thinks it’s ok to love more than one friend. It’s ok to love two parents and however many siblings, cousins or uncles we have. But no-one thinks we can love more than one person romantically. For lots of people that’s completely true. Some people will only love one person their whole lives, even if they lose them they cant make themselves move on. Some people can only love one person at a time. Some people never love anyone like that. Some people can love people with their hearts but never feel the desire to have sex. Some people can only be attracted to people they love first. Some men like men. Some women like women. Some people like both. Some people like both at the same time. But what does it matter? Why would we waste our time judging people that aren’t hurting anyone? Isn’t the world divided enough without getting angry about who people love? What do we gain through ostracism and division? Does hate really make us stronger? You love me, truly. Maybe you could live your whole life with just me completely satisfied and maybe you can’t. But you can’t deny that you love him too. Maybe you want to analyse it and say its because of this or that. Maybe it’s nothing to do with love or sex at all. We’ve all been through enough pain, trauma and life altering experiences to last a life time. We have a bond built on blood and forged in dragon fire. Sometimes it seems like we are all destined. We all have part to play, we all bring something unique to the table. We counter each others weakness and bolster each others strengths. But at the end of the day does it even matter why? Mind, body, soul, destiny, circumstances? Shouldn’t we just allow ourselves a chance to be happy? I love him too. I want him to be part of us. But not like this. He has to be an equal. He has to be able to choose us. That’s what you did wrong. You acted without asking, me or him. You knew he couldn’t do anything about it. And I know you would never take advantage. I do. But does he? Think about what he’s been through? Not just the rape but everything. He’s had his whole personality stripped back and beaten down. I want the real him and I know you do to. So we are going to have to work hard to fight for him. And we have to accept the fact that when we get him back, and we will get him back, he may want nothing to do with us.”</p>
<p>Arthur’s head pounded in confusion. It was all too much. He was still crying and just wanted to be left alone to deal with it all. How was he supposed to process this on top of everything else. His eyes immediately fell on Merlin. After the kiss he had fallen to his knees to his waiting position. His face seemed determined to remain blank, but Arthur could see a wealth of hurt and confusion in those eyes cast determinedly down. He was immediately chastened to think that he had once again been focussing his thoughts on his own pain instead of his victim’s. His eyes lingered on the fresh brand and he lost the battle with his stomach. Merlin’s eyes flicked up in concern before catching himself. Arthur hoped that it was a sign Merlin was still in their somewhere. For the concern seemed more like the old Merlin when Arthur was hurt, and less like the slave frantically attempting to please. Arthur rearranged Merlin’s limbs, determined to take the pressure off of his feet. Merlin was like a doll, lifeless and mouldable and Arthur was trying desperately not to think of the implications of that. Guinevere joined them on the floor and held his hand. </p>
<p>“You’re not a bad person you know. Just a flawed one. Like everyone you have made bad choices. Because you are king your bad choices seem huge, but they are still just mistakes. What stops you being a bad person is your determination to learn. You seek truth and aren’t stuck in your ways if you learn contradicting facts. You always try and do what’s right for everyone and you always seek to atone for your errors. You may not always succeed, but most people wont even try. Just don’t give up. Even when it seems impossible, just never lose sight of what you are fighting for. You’re fighting for your people and you’re fighting for what’s right. You’re fighting for him. They way ahead wont be easy, but just focus on each step. Face the future with courage and strength. Be kind to others and be kind to yourself. Guilt can remind you what’s right, but self hate has never achieved anything. If you let yourself be crippled by doubt you wont find peace for your people or yourself. You’ve taken a step back, but you’re not down yet. Follow your plan and steel your resolve, focus on where you want to be and don’t let anyone stop you. I believe in you. And frankly everyone deserves a chance to be happy. Even you.”</p>
<p>She gave him a loving kiss and pulled him close. Merlin looked at them with a faintly wistful gleam, so she beckoned him over. He shuffled his way into their arms. There, sitting on the floor with the people he loved most, Arthur Pendragon shut his eyes and pretended, just for this moment, that everything would be fine. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was two weeks after the branding incident and Arthur was nervous. He had made the first move in his plan to legalise magic. He had told his council that he planned to allow healing magic in a limited capacity. It had, predictably, caused outrage. But only among the council. The people seemed curious, bordering on cautiously optimistic. He had decided to ease people in to the idea by getting all the information required from an external party. He had extended a hand towards the druids. Not so much a hand of friendship, but of mutual non aggression, as if the druids had ever been aggressive. He asked them if they would be willing to send a representative to talk about the integration of healing magic. Most had practically fled from the invite, however one clan had accepted. They said they would be sending one brave man to come and discus the situation. </p>
<p>Arthur had convened a much lighter council, made up of the more sensible members. He greeted the young man with dark hair professionally and warmly. </p>
<p>“Thank you for your hospitality and curiosity. I’ve always had hope that things could become more reasonable between one another. You probably don’t remember me from all those years ago, but you saved my life. My name is Mordred.”</p>
<p>Arthur felt his veins turn to ice. He recalled Merlin’s diary entry that stated this was the boy destined to end his life. He felt a horrible sense of peturbation that this was going to be a very bad idea. Merlin, whom he had placed behind him, shot up and made eye contact with the younger man. Mordred locked his unblinking gaze on Merlin, with a disquieting intensity. He seemed to grow more and more baffled, until his eyes slid down to Merlin’s collar. He seemed to freeze in place until he slowly turned his gaze back to Arthur. Mordred seemed to radiate power and righteous fury. Everything about this was screaming dangerous. </p>
<p>“I fear your most gracious awe inspiring majesty that you’ve been a little incongruous with truth haven’t you? Of course I may be a simple peasant and therefore not understanding of the intricacies of the court, but it seems a little disingenuous to me to bring me hear under the guise of peace while you keep one of our own in chains? You have the audacity to say you seek an end to violence whilst you have enslaved the man prophesized to be our saviour. You spit in the face of our religion then send us a notice so you can rub our face in it. You say you want to understand magic after you have MUTILATED THE ENBODIMENT OF IT! THIS WILL NOT STAND!! You were supposed to work together, as equals, yet you wield him like a weapon to meet your own ends. You have committed the greatest insult yet to our kind and I swear to the triple goddess herself you will pay for it in BLOOD!”</p>
<p>Mordred hurled ball of fire at Arthur, but Merlin’s shield was faster (he had been given free reign to use magic for defence of his king). Mordred staggered back under the weight of the deflection and seemed close to tears. </p>
<p>“What has he done to you Emrys? You were supposed to save us! But now he will use you to kill us. But I swear to you, I will free you from his control whatever it takes!”</p>
<p>With a flash of light and whirl of smoke, Mordred fled the room too fast for people to catch. They received word five days later. Up to forty percent of the druid people had defected from their beliefs of non violence and had sought to join Morgana’s army of Saxons. </p>
<p>Mordred and Morgana were united. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Oh dear?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Chapter 19 Lift the ban and break the band</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Arthur had been arguing in circles all day. He was getting no where! They were on the precipice of war and everyone was arguing like old maids. They had three months to prepare. They had inferred through various spies and scouts that Morgana planned to attack on the day of the summer solstice, as the magic of the earth was more officious on this holy day. Also there were rumours that the druids had planned a pilgrimage to the great stones of Nemeton to pray for the earths magic to be channelled into the success of their campaign. This gave them three months to prepare. But it seemed the council wanted to rehash the age old augments and waste their head start. Especially as the merger with Essetir meant they had more people than ever to protect and much more to loose. Arthur knew what had to be done. The time for tentative, eased in plans were over. They needed to go all in and get every possible advantage or they would lose. Unquestionably. He didn’t understand why they couldn’t see that. </p>
<p>“The ban must be lifted. It is the only way to salvage this situation! If we do it now there is a chance that a significant portion of Morgana’s forces will leave her, they fight only because they have lost hope, if we give them a reason to doubt the need for war many will chose to abstain and wait it out. We need every advantage we can get!”</p>
<p>“But sire, to lift the ban would cause anarchy! All those sorcerers roaming the streets spreading their destruction. Camelot would fall before the army even got here!”</p>
<p>“Really? You think lifting the ban would create chaos? It would lessen it. A ban doesn’t stop people from being born with magic. Oh yes people are born with magic. All it does is drive innocent sorcerers away or into hiding. That’s why we don’t see them. This kingdom was founded on sorcery and it flourished for nearly three hundred years. It has only been vilified for less than a tenth of that. Are we really so disdainful of our ancestry and arrogant enough to believe we must know better? There will always be people who want to spread pain and misery, magic or otherwise. It’s not as if people without magic never commit crimes. They still become mercenaries and murderers, traitors and fraudsters, yet we don’t tar all non magic folk with that brush. All we do with the ban is shackle those of good intent. All that is needed for evil to prevail is for good men to do nothing. With the ban lifted they would be free to help. It would appease those whose only motivation is revenge or anger.”</p>
<p>“But sire what of your Mother? She died because of magic.”</p>
<p>“She died because my father was a hypocrite who was unprepared to pay the price of his own actions! Gaius tell them. And don’t even think about pretending not you know what I’m talking about.”</p>
<p>Gaius paled considerably before clearing his throat. </p>
<p>“Most of remember the previous court Sorceress Nimueh. King Uther and Queen Ygraine approached her shortly before King Arthur’s conception. I had recently told them that the Queen was definitely barren and they would never have a child of their own flesh. Uther couldn’t accept it. He was insistent that there had to be a way for them to conceive an heir. So they asked Nimueh if it was possible to use magic to help in the conception. She informed them that it was no simple feat. That to create a life, a life had to be taken.” Gaius paused as the council sucked in a shocked gasp. “King Uther assured her that any price would be worth paying, that no life could be worthy of a prince, especially as he believed it would likely be a peasant, due to their more populous nature. Nimueh told him that she could make no guarantees as to who would die, as she had only recently been ordained as a priestess and this kind of magic would usually only be done by the those most accomplished, and even then it was fraught with danger. I begged them to reconsider, but it was too late. When Queen Ygraine was found to be the price, he tried to kill Nimueh. When he couldn’t catch her, he swore he’d flush her out and make her pay. He started the purge.” </p>
<p>The council were silent. One councilman finally stammered out. </p>
<p>“Well, I suppose it just shows how dangerous it all is. He learned and turned against it. We all make mistakes in our youth.”</p>
<p>“He used it after it was banned as well.”</p>
<p>“He what? No impossible. He would never stoop that low!”</p>
<p>“Did you truly think Morgana just happened to recover from a broken skull? Did none of you question it? Do you really think the king would have not noticed? Just a week before he had the millers daughter executed on the grounds of sorcery because she recovered from the sweating sickness too quickly! Yet a condition that is always fatal afflicts his ward and he is not even remotely phased when she recovers promptly, healthier than ever? That is because he bade me use magic!”</p>
<p>Silence reigned momentarily before a voice offered meekly in a last ditch effort. </p>
<p>“Well.. I mean. That didn’t turn out well did it.”</p>
<p>Arthur was once again fighting a headache, could magic stop headaches? He really needed to know. But that was besides the point. He turned to the Lord in question. </p>
<p>“And that was more our fault than hers. I can NEVER condone what she did. But we played our part. Magic is not a choice. It choices its wielders, not the other way around. She was alone, scared of what she was and scared of hatred and rejection. To have your body seemingly turn against you and have no one to turn to must have been terrible. To have to watch people like you burn, knowing they had no choice and you could be next? It’s unfathomable. It is obvious that fear, not magic corrupted her. She was lost to us the second someone could give her the love and acceptance we denied her, as well as help gaining control of herself. Lord Ainsley you have a daughter do you not? If your ten year old girl came to you saying she could start fires with her mind and was scared, do you seriously expect me to believe you would drag her here and offer her up to the flames? Or suppose she was deathly ill and Gaius told you her only hope was magic, but that because of the law he was going to leave her to die instead, would you not be angry? If you cant look me in the eye and say that on both occasions you’d be willing to see your girl dead you’re a hypocrite. Just like all of us. We would all help our own, yet are the first to offer condemnation when others make those choices. To kill people for how they are born, or for protecting those they love is wrong. It’s that simple. Even if this wasn’t about lessening opposition and strengthening our position this would still be the right thing to do. We have drawn first blood on the magical community. We have bled them near dry. And all it has caused is endless retaliation, the death of innocents, a society warped by fear and hate. I decree no more! Camelot cannot stand for hypocrisy and hate anymore. If we do not stand by our vows to do what is right by all our people then we are doomed to crumble. To prevail against the dark we must be united in the light. Everyone must be free to contribute with all their talents, fully, rather than wasting away in the shadows. For the sake of all we hold dear we must we must free all magic users.”</p>
<p>Merlin had been curled around Arthur’s right calf with a glazed expression on his face. He had been growing vaguely agitated as the conversation filtered through to him. At Arthur’s proclamation he went stiff as a board, before promptly quivering dynamically and grabbing Arthur’s trouser leg with a vice like grip. He appeared to be trying to bury himself in the fabric. </p>
<p>“Surely you don’t mean... Sire he’s dangerous! The general concept of freedom I can understand, but that boy is unnatural. And he most assuredly hates you for his ill treatment. He was supposed to be Camelot’s defence. You should use him as such! To defeat Morgana you would need control of his magic to win. To cut him loose would be suicide. It would deprive Camelot of its most efficient weapon. That’s of course assuming he doesn’t go straight to join his kin. After all its him the druids are fighting for isn’t it?”</p>
<p>“I meant what I said! I will not tolerate a victory built on hypocrisy anymore. We stand or we die by our values. If you don’t like it try and dethrone me! If you think you can unseat me, scramble to find someone else, put them on the throne, have them consolidate power and come up with a winning battle strategy within three months be my guest! I may not have universal approval, but I have my loyalists. The people will also cling to known in times of hardship. And face it, I am our top swordsman on the basis of skill not rank. Whilst I may value you, at this point in time you need me. Whilst you may have run and hid during Morganas time on the throne, if she retains it for good, do you believe she’ll spare you? Will you still be men of importance? Will you even live? I could force Merlin to fight, but even if it didn’t betray the very principals I’m now fighting for, it wouldn’t be practical. I no not the true extent of his gifts or how to wield them with the greatest efficiency. Time fumbling over instructions and lack of knowledge will cost lives. A man shackled never fights better. And he must be allowed to chose. He may chose not to fight for us, hell it would be his right. But our debt to him is far too great for me to allow this final indignity on his person. He must go free.”</p>
<p>The silence was heavy with recriminations and contemplation, before being broken. </p>
<p>“You speak of a debt? In what manner is this debt?”</p>
<p>Arthur took a deep breath and relayed a heavily edited version of Merlin’s tale. He skipped over his fathers death and the dragons release, as that wouldn’t be helpful. Freya’s story was too personal. He dodged that one definitively when a councilman enquired if he’d had anything to do with the Bastet. Though he gave no details it seemed like Percival was going to faint. It seemed to him, absurdly, that simply openly praising Merlin’s heroics was actually the cruellest thing he’d done. To strip him bare, publicly, and display his whole life to these hateful men was undoubtedly cruel. It was leaving him more vulnerable than ever and his fear of the exposure was palpable. It was grotesque to see him helplessly try and twist away from the truth of his own bravery, as if he was literally being flayed alive. He whimpered and skittered, drunk on the misery of his own life. The council seemed arguably more scared than ever, after hearing the true extent of who Merlin was. But there were no deniers. They had reached a reluctant acceptance with truth of their debt. So when Arthur moved to remove Merlin’s collar, no one did anything. </p>
<p>Except Merlin. </p>
<p>He shrieked like a demon and scurried his way into the corner of the room. He grabbed his collar with both hands in a desperate attempt to keep it locked down, before promptly folding in on himself like crumpled paper. Arthur tried soothing and cajoling the hysterical man, before giving up on talking. He seized merlin’s hand away from his neck and snapped the collar off. Merlin appeared to brace himself for a tornado and looked on in horror, only to find..</p>
<p>Absolutely nothing happened.</p>
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<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Chapter 20 Leon’s Lament</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Because i negelected leon and i like him. So there. Also it mentions a suicide attempt but i dont go into details</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Arthur had freed Merlin two months ago and it had been hell. Merlin was making progress mentally but was clearly struggling in the extreme. He was mostly speaking in full sentences again. Mostly. His language skills were still quite broken. He was hardly the very verbose these days. He spent most of his days scooting away from people in a neurotic state of terror. He’d developed hand tremors and various nervous twitches. He spent his days flitting around the castle reading up about various magic and trying to bolster the protective wards around the castle and town. He was also simply trying to regain his confidence and social strength. He was coming a long, but it had been painful.</p><p>He had clung to Arthur desperately for the first few weeks and had been inconsolable. When they had ultimately moved him into his new chambers, befitting his role as advisor, Merlin had treated the room as if it were a torture chamber and had been convinced that the separation from Arthurs chambers had been a hellish punishment. Arthur had been doing his best to help him and ensure that Merlin didn’t feel rejected. But he had been withdrawing to encourage Merlin to stand on his own to feet. He knew Merlin’s other friends were helping as well, giving him support the was spread out amongst them, so he didn’t grow too dependant on any one person. Though quite a few people had looked in on him and brought tokens of well wishes, the bulk of his rehabilitation rested on the shoulders of Gaius, Gwaine and, bizarrely, Percival. </p><p>After the fallout of the council meeting Percival had apprehended Arthur and demanded information about the Bastet. Arthur was initially reluctant to divulge any information, until Percival asked if she was called Freya. After that they had, tearfully, swapped stories. The ordeal had left Percival ashen and trembling. But he had grown determined. He swore that from then on Merlin would be his kin, in the name of his sister. He vowed that he would be a brother to young sorcerer and would never give up on trying to make things right. A vow that had been tested virtually straight away. </p><p>To say that Gwaine had been hostile to the idea was the understatement of the century. He had been positively vitriolic. Throughout Merlin’s enslavement the lovable rogue had lost himself to despair and alcoholism. Now he had been born anew and had actually given up drinking. He had become ridiculously protective, though he toned it down in the warlocks presence. He had been decidedly unhappy to have Percival within breathing distance of his best friend. Everyone had heard about the frequent gang rape and how Percival had done nothing to stop it. That had turned most people against him, even people who where still wary of Merlin. It was the principle of the matter. Gwaine however had been emphatically murderous towards the giant. But Gaius had insisted that he play his part, stating that his intentions where true and they needed the help. Although most people had been friendly towards the young mage, they had not wanted to spend an extensive amount of time with Merlin. This had partly been because they were uncomfortable about his magic being free, but mostly because he needed a lot of patience and specialised care that most people frankly couldn’t deal with. As such, the three of them took opportunities to spend a mixture of downtime and magical tasks with Merlin each day. They also monitored him for signs of self harm, particularly after the panic attack fuelled suicide attempt in the second week of his freedom. One of them stayed in his room each night to soothe his nightmares. Percival and Gaius did two nights a week each and Gwaine did three. </p><p>So they had slowly been stitching his mind back together, perhaps quicker than was healthy, but the war was just round the corner. The summer solstice was growing nearer everyday. There was a tenseness in the air that was growing more suffocating everyday. This would be the biggest army yet. And among them were very powerful sorcerers. Lots’ army had had a few battle-mages, but they had been of small number and of paltry talent. They where mandatory conscripts to bolster the army, as the true battle-mage section of the army had never recovered from the cup of life debacle. This army was primarily sorcerers who were committed to the destruction of Camelot. Everyone knew Merlin was no where near at full strength. He still had trouble with eye contact and using magic tended to be very temperamental. He still had a tendency to panic and crumple in terror at the merest mention of the word. Other times it seemed to rush to fill his every whim, whilst he struggled fruitlessly to reign it in. It caused everyone real concern to know that there may not be enough time to fix him sufficiently. It was such a delicate balance and, truthfully, the people were terrified it wouldn’t be enough. When combined with the lifting of the magic ban, (and the ensuing anarchy that caused) people struggled to deal with the change (and the tentative emergence of hidden sorcerers among them). It was safe to say the atmosphere was fraught. </p><p> </p><p>Leon was stressed. That was putting it mildly. He had so many new knights to get into shape. The new recruits were promising, but they still had far to go and not much time to get there. The sheer influx of newcomers would be difficult enough even if they were noble born, but these commoners, whilst brilliant at fighting, were very erratic. He had to get them up to code on conduct, official stances and courtly rules. It was truly exhausting, even without the bigotry and there was definitely bigotry. The nobles noses were out of joint on the principle of the situation. Leon also suspected that they were a little scared of losing their positions. For the first time ever there was as many Common born knights as nobles. They were all needed at the moment, but in the future there may be an excess. Whilst, of course, they needed to have some level of competency to get a knighthood, the lack of competition had previously kept requirements to a minimum. In the future the King would be able to be a lot more choosey. And that had people scared. Especially given the nature of three specific recruits. Dames Emily, Jessica and Myrtle were perhaps the most determined hardworking and naturally talented Knights in recent history. Didn’t that just smash away every stupid preconception people had about the superiority of noble men? If Leon wasn’t so overwrought he’d have laughed himself silly over the puffed up indignation the council had about women being their protectors. Leon however was just proud, Arthur was finally coming into his own and making real changes. Though it had clearly come at a cost. </p><p>As if summoned by his dour thoughts, the object of his gloom entered the armoury where Leon was taking stock of the inventory. Merlin’s gaze promptly fell to the floor upon noticing that he wasn’t alone. He shuffled round the room and appeared to be trying tremendously hard to appear nonchalant. His total silence, lack of eye contact and subconscious way he appeared to brace for impact, gave him away. He was clearly incredibly nervous. Leon sighed in resignation, he had obviously waited far too long to have this conversation. </p><p>“So Merlin, how are you doing?”</p><p>Merlin whirled round, looking as if Leon had declared his intentions to beat him to death. He waited in suffocating silence before merlin whispered. </p><p>“Wha-why? Why would care? I mean I’m not.. I don’t want to be rude.. but I mean. You hate me so.. yeah. Um I..I’ll just...Go?”</p><p>Leon’s heart just ached. He’d definitely waited to long to have this conversation. He put out his hand tentatively to stop the skittish mage from bolting and urged him to sit. He sat next to him and said gently.</p><p>“Merlin, listen to me. I have never hated you. I was angry. Yes. But not hateful. And it wasn’t because you had magic. Because I don’t hate magic. I haven’t done for years. Everyone assumed I did, but its not true. My life was saved by magic, I <em>felt</em> its pureness as my life returned to me. Even before that, I was hardly a zealot. I had no particular love for it, but I certainly thought that to completely eradicate it was unfair, unnecessary, unlikely to succeed and very likely to just cause problems. I raided druid camps, took part in the slaughter of children. I could never truly believe that these people, who didn’t even fight and were just living their lives deserved to die. But id pledged my allegiance to the crown and I don’t take oaths lightly. For a time that notion soothed my conscience, rightly or wrongly. But in my heart I was always waiting for Arthur’s time. And it was going well. Arthur was a king I was and am proud to serve. Which is why I was so angry.</p><p>You know I always suspected you? I never knew, but I always had this feeling that there was something special about you. But when Arthur became king and you did nothing, I assumed I had simply been paranoid all these years. And then suddenly you were outing yourself publically and violently and I was furious! How could you do it like that? Didn’t Arthur deserve to be told, privately. With that gigantic display of power, it seemed like you were basically mocking him. He already had to put up with so much unpleasantness from those fastidious council members and had been through so much betrayal. To have had a powerful sorcerer under his nose all this time undermines his authority massively. And he just doesn’t deserve that.</p><p>I also felt angry about the wasted opportunity for others. It seemed like you were going to make everything worse for so many magic users, because you were a liar and a ‘traitor’ and so dangerous. I thought for sure that your, for want of a better word, thoughtlessness was going to harden Arthur’s heart forever. Not to mention the overwhelming evidence it would give hardliners about the duplicity of magic. I found it to be a disservice to magic users and to Arthur’s great potential. But I never hated you. I knew Arthur was going to throw, well, a tantrum. And it just made me so ANGRY that this was what it had come to. In retrospect, I know its not like you had any better options, that this wasn’t some plan. But I just couldn’t deal with it. I thought it would be best to stay out of it.</p><p>I was appalled when I heard about the enslavement. But I thought that it might work out. I knew Arthur could be a bit of a bully, but he was never malicious. I figured he just needed to vent and feel in control again. I thought it would be unpleasant but not awful and it would give him a chance to get the anger out of his system and then we could all move on. I swear to you I NEVER foresaw things going so wrong. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry I never stood by you. Sorry I dared to judge you for things outside your control. I’m sorry you never felt safe here. And I’m so sorry you ever felt like I could hate you, because I could never. I’ve always admired your bravery, your strength of character and your unshakable loyalty. And I’m more in awe of you now than ever.</p><p>I also want you to know... I would never have stood by and let those bastards rape you. I may have been concerned that things were going badly, but I truly had no idea about the extent of what was going on. I would have put a stop to it if I’d have known. I know you’re not ok and I know I failed you. We all did. But I want you to believe me when I say I never wanted you hurt and regardless of how you feel, I’ll always see you as a friend.” </p><p>Merlin promptly dissolved into a fit of heartfelt tears. The two of them sat in companionable silence and Leon tentatively held him as he cried. It was too little too late, but he hoped he was finally giving the poor boy the comfort he deserved. </p><p> </p><p>Merlin had decided. He knew it was stupid. Bizarre. Overstepping. Probably insane. Maybe even a sign that he had been completely brainwashed. But he knew that, for whatever reason, it’s what he needed. Wanted. They said he could ask for whatever he needed, though he figured they probably didn’t suspect what he wanted. But he needed something to ground himself and relieve the terrible terrible pressure and heartache he had. So he was going to ask. Its not like things could get much worse at this point. He pushed open the door to Arthur’s chambers and locked Arthur and Guinevere with a determined stare, (he was still having trouble with eye contact.)</p><p>“Mas-Arthur. Guinevere. I know this is a bit... I know this is unusual, and you are probably not interested. But you said I should tell you what I want. And I want.. you. I want to have sex with you. Both.”</p>
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<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Chapter 21 The Sexiness of submission</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>THIS IS SMUT! you know, just in case you dont get that from the chapter</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It had been three weeks since Merlin had dropped the bombshell that he wanted to sleep with them both and frankly Arthur was still nervous. But they had discussed, debated, outlined rules and limits. They had taken their time, discussed feelings and done a lot of clearing the air. But time was officially over. This could be the last day the three of them had together. It was only one week till the summer solstice and the army moved out the next day. Guinevere was staying behind. She had been indignant, but at the end of the day they couldn’t afford both rulers to be on the battlefield. (Though neither of them mentioned the fact that if they lost the war its not like Guinevere would be able to stop Morgana taking the throne from her.) Hence they’d thrown caution to the winds, and said fuck it. They were going to fuck each other. </p>
<p>That’s how Merlin came to be on his knees sucking Arthur’s cock, like his life depended on it. Arthur had only received oral sex once before, from a prostitute his father had hired to teach him about these things. He couldn’t remember that being this deliciously seductive though. Merlin’s mouth was pleasantly warm and delectably tight and it dragged itself up and down his member with each bob of his head. His tongue swirled around the tip then slid itself down to the base as he pushed Arthur down far and hard enough that Arthur could feel the fluttering contractions of Merlin’s throat and hear the positively debauched sounds of wet suction being applied to the base, as he sheathed himself to the hilt. Merlin was already looking fucked out, with his hair sticking up erratically where Arthur had been grabbing it. His eyes were hooded and glazed out, blank with submission, but dark with lust. He looked like he was floating. His cock was rock hard and jutting out proudly, even as the small tendril of magic had wrapped itself around the base, to prevent him from cumming too soon. Arthur smirked like a predator at the sight of Merlin’s erection, because neither him or Gwen had even touched his cock yet and Merlin certainly hadn’t been allowed to. Gwen had been murmuring positive endearments in his ear. She was in all her naked glory with her nipples erect and her pussy lips already glistening. Arthur knew it was probably wrong for her to be getting so aroused at her husband being with another man; he figured it was probably worse that he found her arousal at him being with someone else so arousing. But he found that when he was balls deep in Merlin’s throat and watching his wife touch herself and moan like a wanton, he didn’t much care that it was “wrong”.</p>
<p>Guinevere was sucking Merlin’s neck in between telling him how amazing he is. She was kissing his poor scars, tenderly, but possessively. She was reminding him that he’s so good and perfect and they want him and love him. Her words and gentle ministrations were causing his cock to strain in earnest and twitch maddeningly. She cooed positively in his ear at the sight, then licked round the ear rim and bit the lobe. Merlin bit back a shout, as his hips fruitlessly canted forward, desperate for relief. He groaned breathlessly, his eyelids fluttered erratically and he clamped down harder than ever on Arthur’s cock in his haze of sweet denial. Hot lust spiked in Arthurs stomach. The sight of Merlin almost coming untouched by soft spoken words and the wet tongue of his wife against his ear was nearly unbearable. But the heady sense of power at knowing Merlin had used his magic to deny himself the tempting pleasure of relief, simply because Arthur asked him to, is what caused the taught coil in his stomach to snap. A surge of warmth and ecstasy poured out of him, as Merlin kept sucking him sensually with that sinful mouth of his. </p>
<p>Guinevere laid down, propped up against the headboard and proprietarily dragged Merlin up and shoved his face between her legs. His tongue was swirling round her clit teasingly and occasionally pushing itself in her pussy, wiggling madly. She had never felt such divine suction, right where she needed it. Drunk on burning desire, she was soon grinding her face mercilessly against his tongue. Arthur was behind Merlin, patiently scissoring him open, and gently teasing the warlocks prostate, achingly softly. Merlin was shuddering weakly and drooling helplessly, as he whimpered desperately against Guinevere’s clit. She viciously conquered his mouth even harder, revelling in the hot puffs of air and stilted vibrations those broken gasps caused. Soon she was grinding his face with crazed abandon and cumming with a victorious crow of a hunter. She locked eyes with her smirking superior husband. Gods she loved them both. She lay back down and pulled Merlin down onto her. She positioned herself accordingly, and promptly buried his cock in her folds. She grinned predatorily when he immediately bit off a shout as her slick heat enveloped his neglected cock all the way down. He shuddered and tried to move, but hastily stopped himself at her stern consternation. At his acquiescence, she granted him a loving kiss and felt herself grow giddy with a power rush when she felt him quivering in desperation to move, yet he resolutely remained still. Soon Arthur had fingered him enough to get Merlin’s hole drippingly loose and himself back at full hardness. So with a ruthless efficiency he invaded the trembling arsehole and landed squarely on the mages prostate, which earned him a howl. With them both seated they both set their own brutal pace, that saw Merlin being helplessly pushed between them, shaking and limp, as they chased the delectable pleasure they could mine from the use of his body. They came at the same time. Guinevere’s hot pussy was clamping down, as Arthur’s warm seed flooded his thoroughly fucked behind.</p>
<p>Tears poured from Merlin’s eyes, as he was once again ripped heartlessly from going over the edge. He felt his frustration crest, as his pleasure stymied. But he was floating in abject bliss, so perfectly content to give over everything to the people he loved. He was freed by the submission and overjoyed. He felt amazingly satisfied to simply exist. There was nothing beyond this moment, nothing outside of this feeling. He was completely in their hands and he had never felt so powerful. He had reached a state of being where their pleasure was his only goal and the choice to submit left him feeling both helpless and helpful. He almost felt like he had transcended the petty desire of his own biology and existed solely for the service of the people he loved. As he laid on his back, he could feel Arthur giving him a few teasing strokes of his weeping prick. He nuzzled into Gwen’s chest and was suckling her nipples as he writhed. He noticed that Arthur was opening himself, making whorish noises that somehow managed to spike lust even hotter in the inferno of his loins. Soon Arthur was lining himself up and impaling himself of Merlin’s cock. He howled in delicious agony at the sensation, bucking pointlessly to get some control of the brutally efficient rhythm he’d set up. The heat and the helplessness was causing him exquisite delirium and soon he was mewling like a new born. The hot drag of his cock in Arthurs passage was pure torture to his tethered cock. He needed it to both end right away and never end. He felt like he would surely die if he didn’t cum now, yet some part of him wanted to chain his cock away forever. He could exist as nothing more than a constantly desperate whore, whose sole purpose was to provide pleasure to others in the delicious knowledge that it would never be received in kind. To rut like a helpless animal in the knowledge that you’ll only make it worse for yourself, yet you can never stop it. To know that you’ve given away your pride, your choices, your control and the rights to even own your own orgasms to someone else, left him so painfully aroused, even without the stimulation. It was amazing. He needed it. Needed the strength of his weakness and the pain of his pleasure. To feel the complete control of his own surrender and the blissful safety of his own oppression. </p>
<p>Once Arthur had fucked himself back to hardness he promptly yanked Merlin to set him on his cock, with Merlin’s back flush against Arthurs chest. Guinevere then pushed herself onto Merlin’s lap, seating him deep inside her and pressing her voluptuous breasts into his chest. They were sandwiched together in a debauched rendition of an embrace. They set themselves up a crazed rhythm, that left Merlin constantly quivering on the knife edge of an orgasm, whilst mercilessly being kept from it. He was begging freely, shuddering and shivering between their pistoning bodies. He was falling apart, smashing into a thousand pieces. He could feel the press of their hot sweaty bodies. He was pliant and limp between Arthur’s glorious muscles and Guinevere’s sexy curves. They were licking and kissing him possessively, grabbing him animalistically. The burn in his arse, the clamping heat around his cock, their propriety hold, their tender praise, it left him falling apart yet he was soaring high. Broken and whole. Weak, but strong. Owned, but free. Arthur bit down on his ear and growled “come”. The control snapped and he surged with painful ecstasy, as all his pain and torment poured out of him, setting him free. It seemed to last an eternity as he arched and screamed, barely conscious. He felt them follow him into the abyss. He fell into their loving embrace, as they sank down into the bed together. As he fell asleep, he couldn’t ever remember feeling so completely at peace with the world.</p>
<p>Despite their pain, they loved each other. That was simply the truth.  </p>
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<a name="section0023"><h2>23. Chapter 22 The final plea</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>War war we love war.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was the day of the battle. Arthur looked out into the distance, with a horrible sense of déjà vu. Was he really facing war again? It had been less than a year since the last one and yet things couldn’t be more different. He had learned so much about the past, who he is inside and the kind of King he wanted to be. His best friend had journeyed from, servant, to traitor, to slave, to advisor and finally had become a lover. Magic was no longer banned. He had three female knights. He was king of a united Essetir and Camelot. Things were worlds away from what he knew. He had both achieved so much and failed so spectacularly. He could never atone for the crimes he had committed and felt arrogant for assuming he should be allowed the chance. Yet he remembered Morgana’s madness. How she had killed innocents, burned crops and ripped families apart with impunity. He thought of Agatha and Jenna and the countless others whose lives had been ruined by Morgana’s misdirected rage. He wanted to hate her. He really wanted to hate her. Instead all he could feel was a phantom ache in his chest. Morgana was dead. Not literally. (Well they were working on that weren’t they? No DON’T think about that!). How had it come to this? She was his sister and even now he still loved her. He wished fruitlessly that things could still be resolved. He wished he could turn back the clock and be there for her. She must have been so scared. No wonder she had turned to Morgause. He wished to believe that he would have been there for her if she had come to him. But he felt hollow in the knowledge that there was a good chance he wouldn’t have been. She truly deserved better. But he had seen how she would rule, her insanity, (be it her fault or not), would tear Camelot apart. He had to stop her and deep down knew that no appeasement would be enough for her. He had to try of course. But he knew that some wounds ran too deep. His biggest hope was that he would be able to convince some of the army to retreat peacefully. Though he wasn’t holding out much hope. </p>
<p>Merlin extended out his magic to touch the army of magic users. He tried to wash over them with a sense of serenity and sincerity. He needed them to feel the truth of his words, he had to convince them to end this fight. This was not the way to achieve peace and he had to communicate that. He prepared to project his voice across the army. He had found a spell to magnify his voice across the din and to simultaneously project it into the mind of anyone capable of telepathy. He really hoped this would work. He didn’t know if he should be confidant, or honest? Ingratiating maybe? He felt sick to his stomach at the prospect of speaking to so many people. And to do it as Emrys? It was terrifying. He wished he could just curl up in a ball at Arthur’s feet. He was still so confused. He had so many conflicting parts in his shattered soul. How was he supposed to help anyone, when he didn’t even know how to behave?! He felt so scared and useless. Everything was going to go wrong. He just knew it. The last war took everything from him. And just as he thought he had made peace with that, everything had changed again. People kept talking to him about trauma and conditioning. Brainwashing. It just made his head hurt and his heart ache. He didn’t want this! Why cant he have a simple life? His mind drifted to his beloved Freya and felt tears gathering at the thought of the life he could have had. He loved Arthur and Gwen fiercely. He could be happy with them. They could heal his broken heart. But part of him would always belong to the Lady of Lake and the life they would have had. Still when he looked over at his King, he felt his heart warm. Things were messy, damaged and pretty fucked between them. But he would fight for him. Fight for them. He reached out and prayed the people would listen to him.</p>
<p>“Invading army, heed my voice. Listen when I say this is not your fight. I know you believe you fight in my name and for freedom, but this is not so. War does not lead to peace. We cannot start an era of unity between those of magic and those without by reinforcing the belief that we are violent and seek only to kill. I know you have suffered, all our kind has. But a blood feud creates a cycle of hate that, if not broken, will spiral forever, killing us all. I have suffered at the hands of those without magic. I could rise up and strike them down but I don’t. For it will achieve nothing. You cannot force acceptance or buy harmony in blood. But there is hope. The ban, has been lifted. Yes that is the truth, I swear on my soul. The golden era of Albion is here. Unity of the kingdom for all peoples is within touching distance. I beg you to see reason. The once and future king is not an innocent man. I am not an innocent man. We have made mistakes. Terrible awful mistakes that have had high costs. I wont insult you by denying them. I’ll lay myself bare. But I swear to you on everything I am, that I truly believe this is the best way to achieve peaceful coexistence. And this is of my own free will. I am a slave no longer. It was merely a price to pay. Arthur Pendragon is the once and future king. He is fulfilling his destiny. He took the long way, but he is getting there. With me. As equals. I implore you... heed my words and go in peace.”</p>
<p>Arthur stepped forward and spoke, looking at Merlin to project his words. </p>
<p>“Good people. I know you must feel nothing but contempt for me. I cannot fault you on this. I have committed crimes against your people. Crimes that can never be wiped clean. I have killed, mercilessly. I have degraded your faith. I hurt your saviour. It was unforgivable. So I do not ask for your forgiveness. But on behalf of the innocents in Camelot and for future generations I plead for the chance to make it right. The ban is lifted. Your people are free and welcome in Camelot. Some of my new knights have magic and they are treated no differently. It took me a long time to see past my hate. To see the truth. I lived in a dead mans shadow, too cowardly to peer behind the veil and confront the cost of my own bigotry. This man helped lift that veil. I will never be able to truly make amends, for what I have done to him. But I will spend the rest of my life trying. We are working together to make a lasting unity. Not because he has bewitched me, or because I have enslaved him. But because we are just two flawed men, desperately trying to help each other do what is right. We believe in this peace and in each other. Morgana, I speak now to you. I freely admit that I have wronged you. I wont insult you with excuses or platitudes. I wish I could say with a clear consciences that I would have helped you when you needed it. But I can’t, I don’t know what i’d have done. But I am here now. I love you my sister. I ask you as the man I am now to the woman you once were. End this madness. I know you deserve better. I’m willing to move on from the pain and heartache you caused, if you will grant me the same. You used to care about the people, not just the crown. Be who you were meant to be and work with me, not against me. Please come back to me.”</p>
<p>Silence reigned for all of half a minute. Before a significant portion of the army teleported/ran away. Then the outraged voice of Morgana Pendragon rose above the crowd, as she shrieked a defiant “NEVER!” All hell broke loose. Merlin ducked his way through the chaos, shielding his knights. The crowd swirled with a sea of rich colours, writhing and spitting and snarling like a many headed entity. Friend a foe weaved and thrashed in and out of each other. Colourful jets of deadly precision lit that sky, sparking against his shields. Steel hit flesh, filling the air with the stench of blood. The battle was a cacophony of bangs, and shrieks, spells, war cries and howls of agony and despair. . He whirled through in a hurricane of righteousness, shielding and attacking deftly as he knitted his way in and out of the attacking horde. Though he knew he should be saving his energy for Morgana he felt if he could use a show of strength, perhaps people leave. He had mostly been focusing on sleeping spells, felling them peacefully in the hope they learn the error of there ways. Now he turned his attention to the sky. He felt the magic within him pulse and twist harshly. </p>
<p>Free me. Free me! FREE ME!</p>
<p>He rent a victors cry and shredded his magic through the electrified air. The sky turned red and split like a gaping wound, pouring rain and howling winds from the heavens. The black clouds congealed in a terrifying mass on the skyline before breaking apart in a deafening roar, as thunder and lightning lashed out precisely on the offending horde. The ground quaked beneath his feet, splintering open and seeking the enemy to swallow them whole into the earth. Creepers and vines snaked their way across the battlefield, attacking their pray and holding them still. He reached out his magic to the supply of oil they had, for their flaming arrows. He siphoning a laudable amount, turning it into a thick choking smog that hung oppressively on the sky above his head. Then he pushed back his head and roared with his dragon tongue, summoning his kin. The majestic sight of the ginormous dragon silhouetted the perfumed sky with a terrifying suffocation of the sun. The dragon roared its fire and the sky was ablaze. People fled, uncaring of direction, in a haze of awe inspired horror. The knights were rallying, in the wake of the retreat. Merlin sought out his king and froze in terror when he saw that he was not the only one advancing. Mordred was a cold ball of fury as he stealthily approached, sword aloft. </p>
<p>“Arthur Pendragon. Prepare to die!”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. Chapter 23 The cruellest kindness</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The battles were kind of meh in merlin. I mean magically, though camlann was good. You never saw Merlin and Morgana really duel properly. So i imagine like this.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Stop!”</p>
<p>Merlin sent out a jet of light that sent Mordred’s sword flying out of his hand. </p>
<p>“Mordred. This isn’t the way. You’re a druid, you know who he is. He has bought magic back to the land, he strives towards peace. He saved your life when you were a child. Don’t forget that. He’s made some mistakes. I’ve made some mistakes. We’ve never pretended to be perfect. But we try. I beg you; think about this. Stop this killing. Stop supporting a woman who only thinks of herself.” </p>
<p>“Well you’d know all about that wouldn’t you Merlin? Or should I say Emrys?”</p>
<p> Morgana Pendragon looked every inch the terrifying witch. With her wild hair, torn dress and hateful eyes as cold as ice, she cut a dangerous impression. Her eyes sparkled with betrayal and agony that had long since turned to pure loathing. In that moment, Merlin fancied he could feel fractures of her soul. But they had long been filled with granite hard hate, uncompromising and unyielding. He yearned to reach out and soften her, rekindle the kindness that once burned deep in her heart. If only he could fix the terrible hole in her psyche, like his had been fixed (almost). But where suffering made Merlin kind, it made Morgana cruel. It was not without merit that Kilgharrah called her the dark to his light and the hate to his love. As much as he lamented the terrible choices that lead to here, he could not amend them. Her face betrayed nothing but fury and disgust. She was too far gone to save. Her suffering was his fault. He owned that. Her mistakes were his. He would end her suffering, no matter what it took. So, when she spoke venomously, he was determined not to give an inch. He shored up his defences and swore a vow to win. No matter the cost. </p>
<p>“Yes you’d know all about supporting yourself. Like how you left me alone when you could have helped! Or when you poisoned me. Or when you chose to stand along side a murderer and bathe in blood of your kin, just to thwart my RIGHT to the throne!”</p>
<p>“ARTHUR IS THE KING! IT HAS BEEN WRITTEN SO FOR HUNDREDS OF YEARS AND YOU WILL HEED THAT!” He took a deep breath. “ I’m not going to patronize you with flimsy apologises. I know I’ve wronged you. I didn’t help you. I abandoned you. But you abandoned us too. You had people that loved you, and you tried to kill them, not because you wanted magic free, but because you wanted to be Queen? This obsession is selfishness, because its not your right. You’re illegitimate and unrecognised. You weren’t raised to be Queen. You used to care about everyone one, but whenever you sit on the throne all you do is spread hatred and animosity. You treat the people like cattle and don’t give a damn about how your decisions affect them. Mordred, please?You can see that she doesn’t want peace with non magic folk, she only wants their pain and subjugation. And there are no lines she wont cross, or morals she won’t break to get more power for herself. Arthur is the only way the golden age will form.”</p>
<p>“Only fools want peace. I want blood. I want their suffering and their pain. I want to cleanse there kind from the earth and watch them writhe in agony as I force them bend to my will. They have to PAY for what they’ve done! We should be the ones in power. Its our right to be in charge! They’ve proven themselves to be nothing but vicious insects, that need to be crushed before they can destroy us. They drew first blood, but we can bite back. You know I’m right Mordred. He betrayed you, he tried to kill you. Just so he can save a man who’d see you dead. Don’t believe his lies. I’m the saviour of magic. I’m a high priestess of the old religion and it will bow to me!”</p>
<p>“She’s right that I betrayed you Mordred. I wont placate you with empty words of denial or pleas for forgiveness. I was just wrong. People always seemed to think that I’d be all knowing, or have some grand plan. But when I met you... I was just a scared kid. I’d been told you’d join Morgana and destroy Albion. I lashed out in fear. I pushed you to this. And I’m sorry. Not just because I’m sorry your doing this, but because I was a fool to believe that trying to kill an innocent child could ever be the right thing. But don’t do this for me. Do it for you. I’ve killed so many and it never leaves you. Its a stain that will never wash off. And what will it achieve? Violence begets violence. Choose peace. Nothing good will come from continuing the cycle of hurt, it’ll go for eternity killing us all. Accept our hand, not because we deserve forgiveness, but because you deserve a life of happiness. And all we want is for all people to thrive. Because everyone deserves the right to be happy.”</p>
<p>Mordred looked back and forth between them, seeming pained and indecisive. His shoulders slumped and he locked his defeated eyes with Merlin’s earnest ones. </p>
<p>“Emrys, Arthur Pendragon... I can’t forgive you. But you are right. This is not who I am. Morgana I’m sorry... but I won’t fight.”</p>
<p>With that Mordred whirled away in a swirl of smoke leaving Morgana looking uncharacteristically vulnerable. Then she screeched in outraged fury and hurled a fire ball at Merlin, which, to her horror, he easily deflected. Merlin cast a protective enchantment around Arthur and prepared himself for battle.</p>
<p>He faced off against the high priestess, who was spitting and snarling like a deranged hydra. They duck and dove, weaving in an out in a dangerous dance, slinging spells indiscriminately and deflecting each others enchantments with perilously pin point accuracy. What had started with throwing each other around and simple spells like “Astryce!” had rapidly devolved into something far more deadly. </p>
<p>She conjured a deadly fire dragon, that Merlin doused with heavy rain and wind, which she conjured into a hurricane, only for it to be deflected back into the clouds and strike down as lightening. She shook the earth, so Merlin split it. She conjured vines to stop her fall into the cracks, which Merlin turned into snakes and set on her. She then amalgamated them into a giant snake and sent it his way. He exploded the snake. Morgana turned the earth into quicksand and threw a rock at Merlin’s head, only for him to combine it with other rocks to fashion into a rock solider. She shattered the rock with a magical hypersonic scream, whilst Merlin encased her in a dome that sent the noise back at her. It rattled her skull excruciatingly and blood poured from her ears, eyes and nose. He sent a slew of knives her way. She promptly melted them and sent the ball of molten iron at his shield. It didn’t penetrate, falling to the floor in volcanic goo. Merlin dashed to spread the extremely hot iron far across the floor of the field, turning it icy cold in an instant and making Morgana slip. He dumped a veritable lakes worth of water on her head, the pressure near crushing her. She was carried mercilessly in the overbearing inertia, as she flailed helplessly. She floundered for breath enough to cast, as she crashed into rocks and sheared along the (now jagged iron) floor. She felt the force of Merlin’s magic forcing her down with the intent to drown her. She was waning in strength; her magic almost depleted. But she was desperate to live. She inhaled a burning breath of water and gurgled out a desperate attempt to turn the water to snow. She was almost successful, the water turned to ice. But now she was trapped. With a plaintive sob, she croaked out a final spell</p>
<p><br/>“Metodsceaft to dêaðcwealm!”(Die in agony!)</p>
<p>Merlin deflected it with dispassionate ease, seemingly not even winded by the fight. He approached her with purpose, and though he looked faintly wistful, there was no reprieve in his determined gaze. She knew this was the end. He placed a hand over her broken and frozen form and began his spell. </p>
<p>“êow weorðungcûð tîma rôdegealga. ðiclîce wið dimf b¯æm smôð sefa ðanc êower ðurhwunianâliðian ûpâtêon.”(You are to be a tree. Only with a pure heart will you be set free.)</p>
<p>Merlin watched as Morgana’s skin quivered, shifting from smooth ivory to cracked wood. Her body stretched and twisted, reaching up to the sky. Below the ground, her legs burrowed and hooked into the earth as roots. Soon all that stood there was a majestic Yew tree. He turned to a stunned Arthur and spoke thickly through his regretful tears. </p>
<p>“It might have been kinder to kill her, but I just couldn’t. She’s in a kind of peaceful trance. Her mind is in a dreamlike state, whilst her body is a tree. I bound her to the essence of the earth. She will forever remain and can never be cut down or killed. And if she ever regains the love in her heart she once had, she’ll become human again. It’ll almost certainly never happen in our lifetime, but I hope that, one day, she’ll get to live a good life, free from pain."</p>
<p>He locked eyes with Arthur, who nodded in a resigned sadness. Arthur pressed his forehead against her tree trunk and whispered a broken goodbye and a wish that she’ll one day be at peace. The battle was won so they took care of the dead and injured and moved out for home. They celebrated their victory with restraint, in acknowledgment of pain their opposition had been in when they started this war. No one was blameless, but they wished to move on. Merlin looked out across the war zone with a breathless sigh. He felt the faintest glimmer of hope nestle in his heart and smiled lovingly at his king. Maybe, just maybe, things would finally turn out right.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Yes i used an online translator. I cant speak old english, which is a shame because it looks really interesting</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. Epilogue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Lets make everyone happy! I love happy endings.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Over the next few years peace fully prevailed. Arthur Pendragon was a fair and just ruler. Camelot flourished under his care and Albion had never been stronger. His tireless efforts to unite kingdoms and forge strong, meaningful alliances, designed for fair and mutual prosperity saw him named High King. Thus he was the one all rulers looked to in times of strife, and he ruled with wisdom and compassion. He had strong support from his infamous round table and was beloved by all, because he truly valued his peoples advice.</p>
<p>Eventually Percival and Gwaine reconciled their differences. They persevered with each other and came out stronger. Though their love was difficult at times, it made them happy and gave them support when they each were faced with their own demons. <br/>Mordred eventually put his pain aside and moved to Camelot with his wife Kara. Though they still suffered from anger issues from time to time, they were able to channel their pain through purpose and love. They both became formidable and beloved knights of Camelot. </p>
<p>Morgana remained a tree. She was untouched by any attempts to cut her down and prospered in all weathers. Everyone who had known her goodness liked to believe she would one day walk free. In the meantime, they hoped her dreams were happy ones.<br/>Gaius retired on a generous allowance and moved into a small cottage with his new wife Alice. His ward was a regular visitor and he was regularly invited to tea at the palace. </p>
<p>Camelot adjusted to the fact that both the King and the Queen shared one consort, who just so happened to be the Court Warlock. It was highly unconventional, but everyone could see that together they were an unstoppable team. Everyone had finally warmed up to Merlin, charmed by his selfless nature and were in awe of his power. </p>
<p>Merlin was good. He still had bad days from time to time. But he had accepted that and had a brilliant support network. He was free to be his full self, had wonderful friends and brilliant lovers. And if sometimes his form of stress relief was being tied to a bed, whilst Arthur edged him to the brink of insanity and Guinevere beat his arse with a switch, till tears streamed down his face, then frankly that was no ones business but theirs. Life was messy, tiring, confusing and occasionally painful. But it was a life worth living. And when he fell asleep each night in the arms of the people he loved, he wouldn’t have it any other way. </p>
<p>Fin. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And that was my first ever fanfiction. I hoped you enjoyed it. Ive got serval more of varying lengths and subject matters planned so lets see how i go.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Well that was the start, dont worry all the good stuff (cough agnst and suffering) will be here soon</p></blockquote></div></div>
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